









i 





Glass 

Book 



BEQUEST OF 

ALBERT ADSIT CLEMONS 

(Not available for exchange) 




















% 




l 




V 




* 











/ 


CURRITA 


Countess of Albornoz 




CURRITA 

Countess of Albornoz 

A Novel of Madrid Society 


BY 

LUIS COLOMA 


TRANSLATED BY 

ESTELLE HUYCK ATTWELL 


Boston 

Little, Brown, and Company 
1900 


* 


PZa 

■ C7/f 

o 

c^p-Z. 


Copyright , ipoo, 

By Little, Brown, and Company 

All rights reserved 


Bequest 

Albert Adsit Clemons 
Aug. 24, 1038 
(Not available for exchange) 



UNIVERSITY PRESS • JOHN WILSON 
AND SON • CAMBRIDGE, U. S. A. 


CURRITA 

COUNTESS OF ALBORNOZ 


PROLOGUE 

TO THE HEADER 

Friend Reader, — If you are a man of the world, not an 
easily frightened connoisseur of human miseries, but a lover 
of the truth although it be bitter, read without fear the 
pages of this book, for you will find nothing in them which 
is unknown to you, or which will vex you. But if you are 
a pious and timid soul, if the nakedness of the truth scan- 
dalizes you, or its rudeness wounds your self-love, stop now, 
and do not go on without first listening to what I am going 
to say to you. 

For I much fear, should this be the case, and if my rea- 
sons do not convince you, that more than one surprise 
awaits you in the pages of this book. I let my pen wander 
through it with entire independence, rejecting with horror, 
upon outlining my picture, that perverse theory which 
broadens the standard of morality to the point of overflow 
of the passions, concealing in a manner more or less artful 
the perfidious idea of allowing all that is agreeable to pass 
as licit ; moreover I confess at the same time — if not with 
fright, at least with great vexation and even with a certain 
literary ire — that I also reject that other extreme common 
to some timorous consciences, who persist in seeing a danger 
in all that chances to delight them. For I judge the first to 
err through excess of boldness, in not seeing abysses where 
there may be flowers ; and I am of the opinion that the 


2 


CURRITA 


second err also through too much fear, in not being able to 
look upon a flower without imagining a precipice concealed 
behind it. Some starting from a false principle, and others 
from a holy truth, all pass from exaggeration to falsehood, 
and finally to insanity ; the former imagining they can use 
as a guide to youth the crudities of Zola, and the latter 
believing that it does not do to teach children the Credo, 
and the articles of Faith, without introducing some prudent 
modifications, — of which I could quote some ridiculous ex- 
amples. Strange phenomenon and singular exigency for the 
writer, that of these two opposite extremes ! Legitimate 
children of the confusion of ideas in all classes of things 
that characterizes our epoch, and has for its origin, among a 
thousand other causes, the haughty self-sufficiency and con- 
tempt of the authority which legitimately defines, want of 
profundity and method in studies, the superficial, obtrusive, 
and interested teachings of the newspapers, and the funereal 
propensity of judging that which passes in our neighbor’s 
heart by what is passing in our own ! 

It is quite certain that the author sins against morality, 
and deserves all censure, who praises the thief and approves 
and facilitates his thefts; or, protesting against them and 
recognizing their immorality, traces nevertheless, with good 
intentions but very little prudence, pictures of dangerous 
beauty and of seductive temptation, which exercise upon 
the incautious reader, and even upon him who does not con- 
sider himself so, the sinister attraction of the abyss. But 
you must not infer from this that the writer is equally im- 
moral who confesses publicly that there are thieves; who 
gives the cry of alarm against them, and delivers them up to 
public shame, painting them with all those black tints which 
decorum tolerates, and which render vice repugnant and 
odious, thus making use of evil to do good, in the same 
way that Spring makes use of ordure to produce the rose. 

And do not tell me that such an author always runs the 
fatal risk of opening the eyes of the innocent; for if he 
knows how to preserve that prudent decorum which I pointed 


PROLOGUE 


out before, and if the innocence of which you speak is the 
true innocence of the heart, pure and holy, ignorant of every- 
thing in theory, as well as in practice, it is evident that it 
will peruse these pages without understanding what is said 
between the lines, and will gather the rose without suspect- 
ing the existence of the thorn. And if by chance it should 
suspect and discover it, it is a clear and evident sign that 
those eyes were not so blind as you believed, and being no 
longer the pure innocence of the heart, but mere ignorance 
of the understanding, it will in the end profit by the lesson 
which the author encloses in prudent enigma. But if one 
converts the treacle into poison, his will be the fault, and 
not the physician’s, and the malice will not abide in the 
writer, but in the self-will of the reader: as an old poet 
says, — 

“ From the loveliest carnation, • 

Pride of the delicious garden, 

The asp sucks poison ; 

The busy bee, honey.” 

According to this standard, friend reader, I wrote the book 
that you have in your hands, and I honestly advise you, so 
that you may throw it aside in time if my way of reasoning 
does not satisfy you. And if by chance you marvel that, 
being who I am, 1 1 enter with so much frankness on such 
dangerous ground, you must remember that, although I 
seem to be a novelist, I am only a missionary ; and so, — like 
the friar of olden times who got up on the tables in the 
public plazas and preached therefrom rude truths to the 
wandering sheep who did not go to the temple, speaking to 
them in their own coarse language, that they might well 
understand, — so I also mount upon my roof-top in the pages 
of a novel, and preach thence to those who otherwise have 
no way of hearing me, and tell them plain and necessary 
truths in their own language, which could never be pro- 
nounced beneath the dome of a temple. 

1 The author is a Jesuit priest. — Tb. 


4 


CURRITA 


For if you, pious and candid reader, seated on the banks 
of the streams of milk and honey which flow through the 
Celestial Jerusalem which you inhabit, if you believe that 
the notion of good and evil exists in all hearts with the 
same clearness which you possess in your understanding 
illuminated by grace, you are in gross error. In the world, 
and above all among a certain class of people, evil is blind 
to itself, on account of that same confusion of ideas, which 
reigns in all classes. When laxity is general in any society, 
the same thing happens which occurs on board ship : as 
everything moves equally, it seems as if nobody moved ; it 
being necessary for some one to stop, that there may be a 
fixed point to mark the hurrying of the rest and the 
dangerous course of those who continue to move. 

Never will a squint-eyed person understand his own 
defect, unless a faithful mirror be held before him, which 
will reflect his crooked sight ; for the eye which serves to 
see and recognize others cannot see and recognize itself, 
unless a miracle should happen equivalent to that grace 
which you enjoy. 

A great and charitable work, therefore, will be that of the 
book which serves as a fixed point to caution those on the 
ship who are drifting away from the shore; and which 
serves as a faithful mirror to the unfortunate squint-eyed 
person, who, beginning by recognizing in it his own mis- 
leading sight, will end by hating it in himself. 

This explains, by the way, why I am detained at times 
with so many small details, which I would disdain as an 
artist, and to which I would not descend as a religious. 
The last refuge of the cross-eyed person who does not wish 
to look straight, is to deny that he understands the one who 
chides him for the defect in his sight ; but when the critic 
puts before him intimate details known only to those of his 
class, he concedes upon the spot the immense advantage of 
experience, and surrenders at discretion, reflecting that if 
he who reprimands him was not also one of the many who 
squinted in his day, he must have been very near it : and 


PROLOGUE 


5 


thus a great point is already gained in the heart that he 
wishes to win; for the idea that this inexorable critic 
studied in the same book, and conquered the same weak- 
nesses, invites confidence and insures indulgence. 

If you concede all these things and yet argue that it does 
not suit the dignity of 4 ‘ The Messenger ” 1 to publish such 
profane stories, I beg you to consider one thing, of which 
no doubt you have not thought. Not all the subscribers of 
44 The Messenger’’ are, like yourself, pious and spiritual; in 
its lists may be found very worldly women as well as mys- 
tical abbesses, and, side by side with the congregation 
of San Luis, indifferent men and even gay youths. It is 
necessary, then, that all this heterogeneous multitude should 
find food which will nourish and please it, for the holy doc- 
trine of the monthly Intention, serious, profound, and de- 
vout, which the abbess relishes with delight, is too sublime 
food for the blunt palates of those who can swallow this 
same celestial doctrine only when it is submerged in a licitly 
profane sauce. 

Let pious souls leave, then, this corner of 44 The Messen- 
ger” for those poor hungry ones who have to be fed by 
surprise with the holy doctrine of Christ ; for far superior to 
the charity which consists in giving, is that which consists in 
understanding and supporting human weaknesses. It is that 
which makes me take my pen to write for them, although at 
the risk of hearing, as upon a certain occasion I have heard, 
that the sacerdotal character is lowered by writing such 
trivial things. As if charity could ever lower itself, no 
matter how much it stoops ! With this, friend reader, I 
leave you in peace ; you are free to peruse these pages of my 
book if it please you, or to leave them alone. I fear, never- 
theless, and in your devout little eyes I see that you are 
already anxious to read it, and won’t put it down until you 
have devoured it word for word ; because if my reasons have 
not convinced you as I wish, curiosity will no doubt prompt 

1 First published in “ The Spanish Messenger of the Sacred Heart 
of Jesus.” — Tr, 


6 CURRITA 

you to do that against which I plead. God be with you, 
then, and bless you. I, for my part, — 

Con estas cosas que digo 
Y las que paso en silencio, 

A mis soledades yoy 
De mis soledades vengo. 

With these things I say 
And those I pass in silence. 

From my solitude I come. 

To my solitude I go. 


PART I 


CHAPTER I 

Something is rotten in the State of Denmark. 

Shakespeare — Hamlet. 

The two little towers of the College rose sharp and graceful, 
like arrows piercing the blue sky, serene and radiant, which 
usually overspreads Madrid in the early days of June. The 
verdure of the garden made it resemble an emerald fallen in 
the sand, an oasis of little forests of lilacs, already wither- 
ing, and of white lilies just opening, lost in the arid plains 
which stretched from the side of the College to the Court of 
Spain. The water leaped in the fountains and ran murmur- 
ing through the basins ; one could hear happy voices of 
children in the interior of the edifice, and chirpings of the 
nightingales and linnets in the trees ; but farther on, beyond 
the cross-barred gate, were neither children nor water, 
flowers nor birds, only a sterile plain, and town of huts ; 
while yonder on the horizon, far, far away, lay Madrid, the 
Court of Spain, her cupolas and towers just appearing amid 
that haze which sets in relief the purity of the atmosphere, a 
species of vapor which rises from great cities like emanations 
from a fetid pool. 

On this day school was closing ; already the distribution 
of premiums had taken place, and the hour had come for the 
leave-takings. Congratulations and good-byes, messages 
and injunctions were heard on all sides, and fathers and 
mothers, children and servants, moving to and fro in a con- 
fused bustle, invaded all the rooms of the College, beaming 
with that pure satisfaction which the premium justly received, 
work finished, and the certain hope of rest inspire, — that 
tumultuous joy which the magic word Vacations / awakens 
in the student of whatever age. 


8 


CURKITA 


The Commencement had been brilliant. In the lower 
part of the hall a platform richly decorated was occupied by 
the one hundred pupils of the College, in their uniforms of 
blue and silver, all fluttering with emotion, and searching 
with little, restless eyes, red cheeks, and beating hearts, 
among the multitude which filled the place, for father, 
mother, brothers, and sisters, who were to be the witnesses 
and participants of their triumph. The platform was 
crowned by a magnificent picture of La Dolorosa , Our 
Lady of the Remembrance , titulary of the College, and at 
its right the Cardinal Archbishop of Toledo, seated under a 
rich canopy and surrounded by the rector and professors of 
the College, presided over the exercises. 

The rest of the immense hall was filled by the parents of 
the children, the grand lady, as well as the humble mer- 
chant’s wife, the grandee of Spain, and the successful 
business man, all happy and satisfied, looking at each other 
and smiling, friends and strangers alike, as if the paternal 
sentiment, equally affected, abridged the distances and height- 
ened the relations, awakening in every soul the same glad- 
someness, the same happiness, and a mutual desire to look 
upon one another and embrace one another as brothers. 

The orchestra opened the exercises, majestically playing 
the overture from Semiramis. The rector, an old religious, 
the honor and glory of the order to which he belonged, after- 
wards made a short address, which he could not finish. Fixing 
his dim eyes on this mountain of little blond and brunette 
heads, which gazed at him so attentively, crowded together 
and expressive as the little angels of a masterpiece of Murillo, 
he began to stammer, and tears cut short his speech. 

“ I do not weep because you are going,” he was able to 
say at last; u but because many will never return.” 

The cloud of little heads began to shake negatively, and a 
spontaneous and noisy applause broke from those two hun- 
dred little hands, as an affectionate protest, which made the 
old man smile in the midst of his tears. The Secretary of 
the College then began to read the names of the prize pupils ; 


CURRITA 


9 


they all rose up, bashful, and perturbed with fright at the 
exhibition, and with the intoxication of their triumph. They 
went up to receive their medals and diplomas from the hands 
of the Archbishop amidst the applause of their companions, 
the sounds of music, and the bravos of the public, and re- 
turned hurriedly to their seats, seeking in the eyes of their 
fathers and mothers that look of infinite love and rightful 
pride which was for them the completion of the triumph. 
A tiny little fellow of eight years stole up the steps of the 
platform, stood up on tip-toe in order to discern his mother 
at a distance, saw her afar off, and threw her a kiss from 
the tip of his diploma. Young and old applauded with en- 
thusiasm, some for that angelic instinct which makes the 
child understand what is holy and beautiful, others from 
that tender sympathy which awakens in the heart of every 
father and mother, when anything tends to reveal the pure 
love of the child. 

The exercises seemed to be already finished, the Arch- 
bishop was about to give the blessing, and all rose to 
receive it on their knees, when a child fair and blond, beauti- 
ful and candid as one of Fra Angelico’s angels, advanced 
towards the middle of the platform. In the enchantment 
of his youth and innocence was realized that indescribable 
something, aristocratic and delicately fine, which in chil- 
dren of grand houses attracts, subjugates, and even affects 
one. His long, light hair, cut in front like that of a little 
page of the fifteenth century, gave him the appearance of 
Prince Richard, painted by Millais in his celebrated picture, 
The Sons of Edward. 

All stopped at the sight of him, each one remaining in his 
seat in the most profound silence. The child then turned his 
large blue eyes, beaming with candor and purity, towards 
the picture of the Virgin, and in a little angel’s voice, began 
to recite : 1 — 

1 The verses of which this is a running translation were composed 
by Father Alarcon, and read on an occasion similar to that here 
described. — Tr. 


10 


CURRITA 


“ Sweet memory of my life, 

Bless those who are departing. 

0 Virgin of Sorrowful Remembrance, 
Receive my farewell greeting, 

And remember thou me. 


" Far from these guardian walls, 

The companions of my happy age 
Ne’er will be false to thy love ; 

They will keep their hearts pure, 

They will remember thee.” 

A general applause broke from the group of children, like 
a cry of enthusiastic assent. The grown people did not 
applaud; but with their souls in their eyes, full of tears, 
they listened immovable. The child took two steps forward, 
and raising his little hands to his breast, continued slowly : — 

“ But I feel, upon leaving, an agony 
Which the heart is unaccustomed to feel. 

But who confides in the words of a child 7 
I fear — I know not what, mother mine, 

For them and for me.” 

All were breathless; the tears falling made no sound. 
The child then turned his eyes to the public, with that vague 
look of innocence which always seems to investigate some- 
thing unknown, and continued with a sadness which touched 
one, and with a simplicity which reached the soul : — 

“ They say the world is a beautiful garden, 

But that the garden conceals asps — 

That there are sweet fruits of deadly poison, 

And that the sea of the world is full of rocks. 

Why is it so 7 


“ They say that, for gold and for honors. 

Men without faith, of mean heart, 

Dry up the spring of their love, 

And to their God and their country are traitors. 
Why are they so 7 


CURRITA 


11 


“They say that the thorns of this life 
They wish to exchange for worldly feasts ; 

That they are the source of thy sorrows, 

And that the mourning in thy sweet eyes 
By them is caused.” 

Some women blushed, for from the lips of the child the 
voice of many consciences seemed to speak. Several men 
bowed their heads, and one voice, energetic but broken, re- 
peated from a distance, “Yes! yes!” It was an old gen- 
eral, grandfather of a pupil of the College. The child 
seemed moved, as the angels might be at the sight of human 
miseries ; he shook his little head sadly, crossed his hands, 
and continued, with the expression of a cherub looking down 
upon earth : — 

“ They, ingrates ! fill thee with woe ; 

Shall I also he deaf to thy groan ? 

No ! I like not fruits that poison. 

I wish not for joys which pain thee, 0 mother, 

I care not to he so. 

“ And while I respond to thy call, 

While I judge myself blest in thy love, 

And, burning with this affection which inflames me, 

I tell thee often that I love thee. 

Wilt thou forget me ? 

“ Ah ! no, sweet memory of my life. 

Whene’er I may struggle in dangerous conflict, 

Whene’er my sorrowful soul may weep 
Upon remembering my farewell good-bye, 

Wilt thou not remember me ? 

“ And in return for love and sincere faith, 

Ne’er without thy memory shall I live ; 

My last tear shall be for thee. 

Until I die, mother, until I die, 

I will remember thee. 

“And thou, mother, when the time may come 
To wing my flight to the Celestial Confines, 

Drawing me to thee in a sweet embrace. 

Ne’er separate me from thy side, 

Ne’er let me go from thee.” 


12 


CURRITA 


The boy stopped. No applause was heard ; only a sob 
broke forth, an immense sob, which from a thousand breasts 
seemed to issue from a single throat, carrying with it min- 
gled feelings of love, tenderness, shame, enthusiasm, piety, 
and repentance, which the candid little voice of the child 
had awakened in these hearts. At a signal from the rector, 
all those who were on the platform rushed into the arms of 
their parents, and a veritable tempest of kisses, screams, 
embraces, blessings, tears of joy, and cries of delight broke 
forth. Only the child who had declaimed the verses re- 
mained solitary in his seat, without father or mother to re- 
ceive him in their arms. The poor little creature gave a 
lingering glance at the happy groups, and with his premiums 
in his hands went slowly out through a wide corridor, in which 
the servants and the carriages of the children who were go- 
ing were already gathering. At one end of it was a large 
globe, with the initials “F. L.” on the top, and on this 
the child sat, as if waiting for something, with his premiums 
at his side, head bowed, and little cap in hand, sad, silent, 
and motionless. The joyful shouts of the multitude in the 
hall reached his ears, and little by little his chest began to 
heave, his throat swelled, and he burst out weeping, bitterly 
but silently, without sobs and without sighs, as those cry 
who have the source of their tears in the heart. The ser- 
vants were already beginning to load up the equipages, and 
the groups of parents and children were moving towards 
the door with joyful commotion, but none observed the 
lonely boy. At times a companion passing gave him an 
affectionate tap, or a professor running hurriedly by smiled 
at him, and the child swallowing his tears smiled in return. 

A stout lady of good-natured appearance found herself in 
this crush near the boy. She held by the hand a small, 
chubby child, who had obtained a premium for gymnastics. 
This little fellow noticed the tears of his companion, and 
pulling the skirts of the lady, whispered in her ear : — 

“Mamma! mamma! Lujan is crying.” 

“ What are you crying about, my child? ” asked the lady, 


CURRITA 


13 


compassionately. “You recited very well ; did you not get 
a premium ? ” 

The boy blushed, and raising his head with childish pride, 
answered, showing those he had : — 

44 Five, and two excellences.” 

“You don’t say so! Five premiums, and yet you are 
crying ? ” 

The boy did not answer, but hung his head as if abashed, 
and began to cry afresh. 

“ But what is the matter, child? ” insisted the lady. “ Are 
you ill? Why are you crying?” 

An immense distress, which in that little angel’s face rent 
the soul, showed itself in the child’s features. With his 
little teeth clenched, and his eyes overflowing with tears and 
bitterness, he replied at last : — 

“Because I am all alone; my mamma did not come; no 
one has seen my premiums.” 

The lady seemed to understand all the profound bitterness 
which this simple lament contained. The tears sprang into 
her eyes, and while with one hand she stroked the blond 
head of the boy, she pressed with the other against her 
breast that of her son, as if she feared he too might some 
day be in want of that loving refuge. 

“ Bless his little heart ! ” she said at the same time. “ My 
poor little boy ! Your mamma has not been able to come ; 
she is no doubt outside. What is her name?” 

“The Countess of Albornoz,” replied the boy. 

A violent expression of indignation was depicted upon 
the countenance of the lady upon hearing this name. She 
turned abruptly towards a young lady who accompanied her, 
and exclaimed with more impetuosity than prudence : — 

4 4 Did you hear that ? This certainly is an outrage to 
heaven ! What a mother ! While this angel is crying, she 
is scandalizing Madrid as usual.” 

44 Psh! — Be careful!” replied the other, looking with 
anxiety at the child. 

44 But who can see such a thing with patience? What a 


14 


CURRITA 


mother for such a son ! I would have come from the ends 
of the earth to have seen my boy receive his premium for 
gymnastics. God bless you, my son ! that shows that when 
you are big you will at least know how to pull a cart. All I 
want is that you will be good to me ! Is it not so, Calisto, 
my love ? ” 

And on the chubby cheeks of her child she imprinted those 
noisy and fond mother’s-kisses which seem like little bites 
of the soul. 

Lujan, wiping his large eyes, of a blue deep as the distant 
sea, had heeded nothing. 

The lady turned to him, saying : — 

“ Come, my boy, don’t cry. Go, Calisto, don’t be stupid ; 
say something to this little boy. Don’t you see he is crying ? 
What is your name, child? ” 

“ Paquito Lujan,” he replied. 

“ Well, don’t cry any more, Paquito; your mamma is wait- 
ing for you at home. Look ! Calisto, give him one of the 
boxes of sweets I brought you ; or better, give him both and 
I will buy you more.” 

And as she saw that the boy refused the pretty little box 
of Mahonesa which Calisto handed him rather reluctantly, 
she added : — 

44 Take them, child ; this is for you, and the other for your 
brothers and sisters. You have brothers and sisters, have 
you not ? ” 

4 4 I have Lili.” 

44 Well, take one to Lili ; and take this also ; ” and the good 
lady imprinted on his wet cheeks two sonorous kisses, in 
which she tried in vain to supply the warmth which he missed 
from the kisses of his mother. 

A groom in a long, olive-green livery, with an earl’s crest 
on the buttons, and carrying in his hand a high hat with a 
large, curly cockade, now approached the group. 

44 When the little master wishes, the carriage awaits him,” 
he said respectfully to the boy. The poor little master 
sprang up with a bound, and embracing the gymnast Calisto 


CURRITA 


15 


with a movement full of grace, he ran toward the door, 
without allowing the groom to carry his premiums. At the 
cross-barred gate the rector, who was there saying good-bye 
to the boys, detained him. Paquito kissed the old man’s 
hand, who, embracing the boy affectionately, whispered a 
moment in his ear. The boy blushed deeply, his tears 
began to flow anew, and with affection he raised for the 
second time to his lips the hand of the priest. 

Little by little the carriages went filing away, and at last 
the cries of good-bye ceased. 

44 Good-bye! good-bye ! ” repeated the old man. 

Some little hands were still waving from a distance out of 
the carriage windows : — 

44 Good-bye ! good-bye ! ” 

Finally all were lost to view in the last angle of the road, 
and the arid plains, the dusty high-road, and the village 
alone remained. The College was left solitary and silent as 
an empty linnet’s cage, and in the distance, hiding in ambush 
amid the haze, lay Madrid, the fetid pool. The poor old 
man let his arms fall dejectedly, bowed his head sadly, and 
entered the chapel murmuring : — 

44 Oh! Virgin of Sorrowful Remembrance, will they think 
of thee?” 


CHAPTER II 

That same afternoon, in the smoking-room of the Duchess 
of Bara, but few were present, and there was a great lack 
of animation. The Duchess lay extended almost at full 
length in a chaise-longue , smoking a deliciously pure cigar, 
whose relucent rings betrayed its genuineness. She com- 
plained of headache. Spread over her lap, but not fastened, 
was a little apron of very fine pelt, and of elegant cut, de- 
signed to preserve from the risk of conflagration the laces 
of her matinee of raw silk ; and from time to time she shook 
off the ashes into a pretty, round earthenware jar, which 


16 


CURRITA 


represented a group of cupids rising out of egg shells in the 
bottom of a nest. Pilar Balsano was puffing another cigar, 
not so strong, but quite as large as that of the Duchess, and 
was making rings, while Carmen Tagle was almost dislocat- 
ing her jaws trying to smoke another, which showed itself 
somewhat rebellious. 

u It is evident this isn’t going to draw,” she soon said. 
And in order to gain more strength, she sipped, slowly and 
with a most distinguished air, a third glass of very strong 
whiskey, which was Served in a rich flask of Bohemian glass, 
with tea, brioches, and sandwiches. 

The wife of Lopez Moreno, stout and majestic, like the 
money-bags of her husband, contracted her large lips in 
order to draw a little paper cigarette, and laughed mater- 
nally to see her daughter Lucy, who had just left school, 
take little puffs from Angelito Castropardo’s cigar. The 
young girl puffed, coughed, and made faces ; Angelito 
puffed to give her a masterly example, and the little school- 
girl began again to puff and cough, finding the pastime most 
diverting. It seemed to please her very much to have a 
grandee of Spain for a teacher, and she tried to study the 
chic of these illustrious ladies, whom her mother had held 
up to her as models of distinction. Yet, nevertheless, 
her school-girl eyes saw in them very curious things. 
The Duchess was disgusted with the loud laughter of the 
banker’s wife, but the mortgages which the latter’s spouse 
had upon the property of the former amounted to over two 
millions, and, considering the necessity of a prospective fur- 
lough, it was advisable to prepare the way with patience and 
amiability. 

Leopoldina Pastor, a lively maiden lady, already past 
forty, clever and very learned, despatched a good ration of 
brioche milanaise, while arguing with Don Casimiro Pantojas, 
a former director of public instruction, an academician, and 
a most celebrated literary man. That week the tramway 
(or el tranvia ) had been inaugurated in the suburb of Sala- 
manca, and the academician was lamenting the fact that the 


CURRITA 


17 


common populace had begun by making the new vehicle mas- 
culine, contrary to the opinion of one of his colleagues, who 
held it to be feminine. 

Senorita Pastor, an ardent defender of the grammatical 
statute laws, promised him that she would propagate la 
tranvia on all sides ; but good Don Casimiro happened to let 
escape him that the academician in question was Don Salus- 
tiano Olozaga, upon which Leopoldina changed her opinion, 
exclaiming with vexation : — 

44 Impossible that it be feminine! Olozaga is an inde- 
corous Amadist, who bestowed upon Thiers the Toison d’or , 
and that no Alfonsist will pardon. So, no more discussion ! 
— 4 el tranvia ’ they say, and ‘ el tranvia ’ they shall con- 
tinue to say ! ” 

And all agreed to put trousers on the tramway, including 
Fernando G-allarta and Gorito Sardona, young bloods of the 
Yeloz Club, and the important Marquis of Butron, Minister 
Plenipotentiary before the time of 44 La Gloriosa ” (Queen 
Isabella), and ever since only a distinguished gastronomist. 
The Marquis had an extremely hairy face, and Queen Isa- 
bella used to call him Robinson Crusoe, for, as she said, only 
with the face of her Minister Plenipotentiary before her, 
could she picture to herself the famous shipwrecked man, 
clothed in skins, in his desert island. And to tell the 
truth, those destinies of the entire sphere, which Napoleon 
enclosed in the vertical wrinkle of his forehead, could re- 
main as perfectly concealed between the eye-brows of the 
Marquis as between two rabbit’s-ears. 

Butron knit the formidable wrinkle, and looking at the 
ashes of his cigar, said solemnly : — 

44 Olozaga! — he, and he only, serves as a prop to this 
situation, which is going to pieces. Without his dexterity 
and his efforts, we should have had the Restoration founded 
half a year ago.” 

The ladies were very indignant, and the Marquis, who was 
really in league with the intrigues of reactionary politicians, 
continued his harangue. Carmen Tagle turned her attention 

2 


18 


CURRITA 


to what was going on behind her, back of an easel of red 
velvet partially draped gracefully with a piece of silk of the 
sixteenth century, upon which was painted a beautiful water- 
color by Worms. 

Between the red legs of the easel, the skirts of a lady 
and the legs of a gentleman appeared. These incognitos 
were Maria Valdivieso and Paco Velez, who had been keep- 
ing up a tremendous dispute for the last half-hour. The 
little school-girl Lucy also strained her ears to try if she 
could catch anything, and in fact she caught two or three 
times the name of Izabel Mazacan, and that of a certain 
minister of the day, very young and very clever, named 
Garcia Gomez. Presently she caught something else ; from 
the lady had escaped a furious “ Canaille ! ” and from the 
gentleman a tremendous oath, which made Lucy give a 
start, blushing furiously ; and Carmen Tagle exclaimed 
between her teeth, with her proverbial pertness : — 

“ Oh, mon Dieu! quel gros mot/” 

Then, raising her voice a little, she said, turning towards 
the easel : — 

‘ 1 Maria, are you not coming? The tea is getting cold.” 

The Marchioness of Valdivieso then appeared, through the 
labyrinth of gew-gaws and ornaments which filled the room, 
and sat down by Carmen Tagle, very much ruffled, her eyes 
blazing lightning-flashes of wrath. Paco Velez went out by 
the other side of the hiding-place, his hands in his pockets, 
his ears red, and biting his lips. He stopped to examine 
with an air of intelligence a very beautiful lamp of inlaid 
copper, which upon a Solomonic column formed a pendant 
for the easel. Lucy, who did not know the Marchioness, 
asked in a very low voice of her instructor Castropardo if 
that gentleman was her husband. 

“ Her husband ! Heavens ! ” and a loud laugh burst from 
Angelito Castropardo. ‘ c Where in the world did the child 
get the queer idea into her head that they were married ? ” 

“Because they were quarrelling!” said Lucy, much 
embarrassed. 


CURRITA 


19 


Castropardo suffered another outburst of hilarity to es- 
cape him, and, scarcely able to say for laughing, “ The 
question has a foundation,” went over to whisper in the 
Duchess’s ear the little collegiate’s idea. 

This incident passed unnoticed by all the rest, distracted 
as they were with the black picture of the present situation, 
which the hairy diplomat was deliberately painting to them. 
He knew very well that the ladies of the nobility were the 
right arm of the politics of the Restoration, and his was the 
task to inflame and direct the zeal of such illustrious con- 
spirators. They, with their ostentatious patriotism and their 
aristocratic outcries, had succeeded in isolating Don Amadeo 
of Savoy and Queen Maria Victoria, penning them up in 
the palace of the Plaza de Oriente, in the midst of a Court 
of “palace key-keepers and rich shop-keepers,” according 
to the opinion of the Duchess of Bara, and of “good-for- 
nothings,” according to Leopoldina Pastor. The ladies 
assembled at the Fuente Castellano, reclining in their grand 
carriages, with classical mantillas of silk lace and little 
shell combs, while the Jleur-de-lis , emblem of the Restora- 
tion, sparkled in all the toilets which they wore at the 
theatres and balls. Even there, and at that moment, the 
wife of Lopez Moreno had on a colossal one set with 
diamonds; and with better taste for the dress and hour, 
the other ladies also wore them made of enamelled gold. 
Leopoldina Pastor had one made of cloth, the size of a 
carrot, on the very top of her hat. 

Frightful was the picture the Marquis drew. Isolated, 
the poor King looked ceaselessly towards the frontier, hop- 
ing for the answer to his address of April 3, which as yet 
— and it was now the twenty-first of June — had received no 
response. The ministerial crises were continuing with fre- 
quency and periodically, like the chills and fevers of a 
tertian ague, until a ministry was formed called Santa 
Rita, that saint being the advocate for impossible cases. 
In the provinces, the troops and peasants had risen up in 
rebellion; the shop-keepers had revolted in Madrid and 


20 


CURRITA 


stoned the alcalde ; and five days before, June 18, a vile 
populace ran through the streets, stoning windows and 
breaking the illuminated lamps of the fete with which many 
were celebrating the aniversary of Pius IX. All this time 
an immense multitude of all colors applauded, in the gardens 
of the Retiro, “ El Principe Lila ” (The Lilac Prince), a 
grotesque satire in which they dubbed the reigning monarch 
with the name of Macarroni I. Several members of the 
Veloz Club, of whom Paco Velez was one, had paid three 
Savoyards to hide in a proscenium box of the theatre where 
Don Amadeo was present, and suddenly to interrupt the 
performance by singing, to the sound of their harps and 
violins, the well known ballad : — 

“ Cicirinella tenia un gallo, 

E tutta la noche montaba a caballo 
Montaba la notte bella, 

Viva ! il gallo de Cicirinella ! ” 

This amused the ladies very much, for it was evident 
that it would remove the difficulties from the path of the 
Restoration, for which they anxiously worked. But the 
thing to be feared, the dark cloud, — and here the Marquis 
accentuated the frightful tints of his countenance, arching 
his eyebrows, — was that the Carlists were beginning to 
move again in the North, and the Republicans were moving 
on all sides, making it very difficult to defend from such a 
wide-open mouth the lonely and much longed-for morsel. 

“The Restoration is a sure thing,” concluded Butron, 
with a prophetic accent ; ‘ 4 but we shall obtain it only by 
traversing a pool of blood. I foresee for Spain a ninety- 
three with all its horrors ! ” 

The ladies were overwhelmed, and in voices low and 
suppressed, as if they had, like Marie Antoinette, through 
the windows of the Temple, seen the head of “ La Lamballe ” 
stuck on a pike, began to talk of the guillotine. To die 
terrified them. How did they know what it was to die? 
They understood it only in the Royal theatre, letting them- 


CURRITA 


21 


selves sink little by little into Violeta Valery’s arm-chair, 
and into the arms of Alfred, singing in time with the 
orchestra “ Addio d’ il passato.” 

The Duchess said, with failing voice, that she had seen 
in London, in Mme. Tussaud’s gallery, the identical guillo- 
tine upon which Louis XVI. died. Lopez Moreno’s wife 
raised her hand to her fat neck, as if she already felt upon 
it the edge of the fatal knife. Leopoldina Pastor was not 
frightened ; if she had to die, she would die like Charlotte 
Corday, after having first despatched half a dozen ‘‘good- 
for-nothings ” like Marat. Carmen Tagle sighed, stuck her 
tongue out a little, and asked if it would hurt much. 

“ You would only feel a slight coolness,” answered a 
hollow voice in the distance. 

All turned affrighted, expecting to encounter Robespierre’s 
ghost, come to give them his opinion from experience. 
They saw only Don Casimiro Pantojas, smilingly squeezing 
with one hand the windpipe, and breaking with the other 
the tail, of a little Dresden china rabbit, which among a 
hundred costly trifles adorned a table. Always absent- 
minded, the good gentleman broke continually whatever 
came within reach of his asparagus-like fingers, and to these 
raids without number on furniture and bric-a-brac he owed 
the nickname of “ The literary Cyclone.” 

Everybody laughed, and the sally of the academician, 
which was only a repetition of what Guillotin said in his 
report to the French Assembly regarding his terrible in- 
vention, helped to brighten up somewhat the sombre atmos- 
phere. A living wind-storm, or feminine hurricane, who 
now appeared in the doorway, succeeded in dissipating it 
entirely. Izabel Mazacan came in with her Diana-like step, 
head in the air, and haughty expression, too genteel for a 
cocotte , and too impertinent for a grande-dame. She kissed 
the Duchess, pulled off one glove, and took two sips of tea. 

“ Butron, a cigar,” she said, and with the aplomb of 
a veteran, suddenly, and without preamble exploded this 
bomb : — «■ 


22 


CUHRITA 


‘ ‘ The first lady-in-waiting of the palace has been 
appointed.” 

Ladies and gentlemen started in their seats with surprise, 
and the headache of the Duchess disappeared as if by 
enchantment. 

“ Who is it? ” 

“ But who can it be? ” 

Who could it be, in fact? — for the great point of the Alfon- 
sist ladies had been to slight Queen Maria Victoria, leaving 
vacant the post of first lady-in-waiting, which exacts as 
an indispensable requisite the nobility of Spain, and is in 
itself a position so high and delicate that it does not 
receive, but lends authority to the Queen herself. 

“ Bah ! ” finally exclaimed the Duchess ; “ some Colonel’s 
wife from Alcolea.” 

“Some distinguished burgher’s wife,” said Carmen Tagle. 

u Miss Zaeo, equestrian artist,” opined Gorito Sardona. 

And Paco Velez barefacedly, without being repulsed, with- 
out an expression of surprise from any woman, and without 
receiving a slap in the face from any man, added : — 

“ The tall Paca — artiste anonyme.” 

Angelito Castropardo, standing behind Lopez Moreno’s 
stout wife, pointed to her with a mischievous gesture and 
winked his eye, as if to ask if she was the one ; and the 
Countess of Mazacan, with much deliberation, and with- 
out the banker’s wife being able to understand by the ex- 
pression of her face what she was saying, or to whom she 
was speaking, answered him, emphasizing the words : — 

“Elle n’est pas grosse d’Espagne; elle est grande 
d’Espagne.” 

The surprise increased, with signs of indignation, and even 
the circumspect diplomat contracted his brows, exclaiming : 

“ Impossible! impossible ! ” 

“It must be some provincial grandee, — some good-for- 
nothing whom we do not know,” said Leopoldina Pastor. 

“ Not at all; she is a grandee of the Court, and of the old 
stock, and I am surprised not to find her here.” 


CURRITA 


23 


“ Here?*’ — shrieked the Duchess, menacingly. 

And eyes were turned in all directions, as if seeking under 
tables, or on the top of some etagere , for the new lady-in- 
waiting. 

44 But who is it? Who is it? ” they all screamed. 

Izabel Mazacan let a malicious little smile escape her, as 
one who tastes an anticipated triumph, handed a glass to 
Paco Velez for him to fill with whiskey, emptied it with one 
swallow, and finished at last by discharging the bomb. 

44 Curra Albornoz,” she said. 

The declaration was so stupendous that its effect was 
destroyed. A cry of general incredulity broke from all lips, 
and the Duchess sank back again in the depths of her 
chaise-longue, exclaiming : — 

44 This is absurd! y 

44 Utterly ridiculous! ” added G-orito, very indignantly. 

It was Izabel Mazacan’s turn to become furious, and while 
old Butron tried to disguise a sudden dread, as if he judged 
such an appointment to be a matter of serious danger, she 
said, very much vexed at the fiasco of her news : — 

44 But I am really amazed at your surprise ! What is the 
meaning of all this astonishment ? Is it possible that at any 
time Curra has ever been ashamed of herself ? ” 

44 That is quite another thing ! ” replied the Duchess, with 
refreshing coolness. 44 But the enormity which you attribute 
to her would be worse than a fault, it would be a folly. 
Lady-in-waiting to La Qisterna ! How absurd ! ” 

- 44 But I have it on good authority ! ” 

44 Go on, don’t be afraid to tell ; none of us have occasion 
to blush,” exclaimed Maria Valdivieso, with extreme pointed- 
ness. 44 Did not Garcia Gomez tell you? ” 

The Countess of Mazacan hesitated a moment, and then, 
not even blushing for the much-commented-upon relations 
which she had with the handsome minister, said at last : — 

44 Yes, Garcia Gomez told me.” 

44 Well, although Saint Garcia Gomez says so, I don’t be- 
lieve it ! ” replied the Duchess, dauntlessly. 44 1 should have 
to see her in the Cisterna’s carriage in order to believe.” 


24 


CURRITA 


“You will soon believe, so don’t worry,” interrupted 
Izabel Mazacan, with much sarcasm. “ Don’t you remember 
that Currita was in Paris when the abdication of the Queen 
took place ? And don’t you remember also that it did not 
occur to any one to invite her to the ceremony ? She took 
very good care not to say so; but her husband, Villamelon, 
who has more of melon about him than villa, let it escape 
him one night in Camponegro’s house. This is the whole 
thing in a nutshell ! She has never pardoned the slight, and 
now wishes to be revenged ; so prepare for the worst, 
Beatrice ! They did not even offer her the post ; she her- 
self solicited it ! ” 

Everybody was startled, and the Countess of Mazacan 
continued : — 

“ It is true the post pays her well, for she gets a salary 
of six thousand dollars and — ” 

“ Six thousand dollars salary! — what nonsense! Why, 
none of the palace salaries exceed three thousand.” 

“ Well, Currita gets more than six thousand, for she has 
also solicited — ” 

Here Garcia Gomez’s friend gave a fiendish little smile, 
and added very slowly : — 

“ — the private secretaryship to Don Amadeo, for Juanito 
Yelarde, who is now her intimate friend.” 

“ Velarde? ” exclaimed Pilar Balsano, very much surprised. 
“ I had no idea of such a thing ! ” 

‘ ‘ And you have heard it now for the first time ? For 
Heaven’s sake Pilar, you are always wool-gathering — ” 

“ I have often seen him with Villamelon, but I never sus- 
pected anything.” 

“ And what better sign do you want? Even the affections 
of that model couple are the same. Currita’s intimate con- 
fidant is the friend whom Villamelon most affects. It is by 
that I know whose turn it is.” 

Everybody laughed, as they always did when the Countess 
of Mazacan began to gossip, and Lopez Moreno’s wife said 
very contentedly : — 


CURKITA 


25 


“What a girl Izabel is! How gracefully she crucifies 
everybody ! ” 

The Countess did not particularly relish the familiar 
“ Izabel,” and as the banker’s wife had no mortgages upon 
her lands, she answered her, laying particular stress upon 
her Christian name. 

“ As far as that is concerned, Senora dona Ramona , I am 
assured that I never calumniate anybody.” 

The Duchess, who as yet had not surrendered her opinion, 
wished to reply something; but the Marquis, restless and 
nervous, imposed silence, extending a hand which, like 
Jacob’s, seemed to be covered with goatskin mittens. 

“Enough, enough, ladies,” he said ; “ you are playing with 
fire ! ” 

And casting a scrutinizing glance around, which shone 
between his eyebrows like the sun between clouds, he added : 

“We all here have the same interests, and can speak 
openly. If what Izabel says is so, complications will surely 
follow such an appointment. It is quite true about the ab- 
dication, but it was an oversight. I was there at the time, 
and Pepe Cerneta told me about it. The Queen herself 
also told me, lamenting the occurrence. For that reason, 
when I noticed that Currita had resented it, I myself wrote 
to the Queen, advising her to give her some satisfaction.” 

“ Well, you did very wrong ! — a waste of precious time ! ” 
interrupted Izabel Mazacan, with an exceedingly graceful 
mom. 

“No! Izabel, you are mistaken! for when a party is in 
trouble, its policy is always to conciliate the foe. And so 
the Queen answered me shortly, saying she would invite her 
to the first communion of our Prince in Rome. But just 
imagine what a compromise it will be for me, if she does it 
now! Mon Dieu , what a blunder! But Izabel, hare- 
brained, why did you not tell me all this in secret? ” 

‘ 4 And why should I ? For you to keep it to yourself, I 
suppose.” 

“Most certainly! — for that very reason! It is most 


26 


CURRITA 


important for us to keep all this to ourselves, and it is 
necessary that I should speak as soon as possible with 
Currita.” 

“ She will be here in a minute or two.” 

“ Here?” 

“ Yes, here! I have an appointment to meet her to visit 
the children of the foundling hospital. She is one of the 
committee of ladies.” 

“Ah! yes,” exclaimed Carmen Tagle, in a very devout 
tone. “ Currita has a truly tender affection for those poor 
little ones.” 

u Maternal,” said Gorito, in the same tone. 

“Truly maternal,” repeated several others, very conscien- 
tiously ; and all burst into a laugh, including the little colle- 
giate, while Butron, very much excited, repeated, with the 
attitude of Neptune calming the seas : — 

“Be sensible, ladies; be sensible, for Heaven’s sake! 
Let no one say a single word, or appear to be cognizant of 
anything until I speak to her.” 

“Ah! no indeed,” exclaimed the Countess of Mazacan, 
very disconsolately; “ I would not renounce for anything in 
the world the pleasure of making her rave a little.” 

“But all this cannot be true; everything can be 
arranged.” 

“ All right ; while you arrange it, we will enjoy ourselves.” 

Butron wished to invoke his authority, but it was too late. 
Through the door of the smoking-room they all saw, 
approaching from the adjoining salon, a very petite and 
slender lady, who walked with mincing steps upon her high 
heels, giving little taps on the floor with the end of the long 
handle of her lace parasol. She had red hair and a face full 
of freckles, while the pupils of her gray eyes were so light 
that they seemed to be limited to a certain distance, pro- 
ducing a strange effect, like the dead eyes of a statue. 

Upon seeing her, Leopoldina Pastor ran to the grand Erad 
piano, which was in an angle of the room, tore off with a 
single pull the rich antique brocaded cover, and began to 


CUKRITA 


27 


play furiously Dona Maria Victoria’s new hymn, one of the 
philharmonic intemperances in which the progressive party 
were so fruitful. Gorito Sardona jumped in front of the 
door, upon a puff of Japanese sheepskin, and catching up, 
in pretence of a hat, one of the antique chiselled silver 
waiters, bowed before the lady, slowly and inflexibly, with- 
out moving his head, extending his arm so as to form a right 
angle with his body, which was Don Amadeo’s customary 
salute. 

Currita paused a moment in the doorway, without losing 
her timid air of schoolgirlish ingenuousness. She heard 
the hymn, saw Gorito, and took in the situation with a single 
and rapid glance. Suddenly she bowed with exquisite dis- 
tinction, in order to respond to the Amadist salute with 
another Court salute, profound, deliberate, to the right, to 
the left, and to the front, making a very elegant caricature 
of the reverential ceremony common to Queen Dona Maria 
Victoria. 


CHAPTER III 

On the twenty-first of June, 1832, Ferdinand VII., limping 
more from gout than age, and Maria Christina, in the 
height of her beauty and elegance, stood sponsors for a child 
named Fernando Christian Robustiano Carlos Luis Gonzaga 
Alfonso de la Santisima Trinidad Anacleto Vicente, in the 
little parochial college church of the Holy Trinity, at the 
royal country-seat of San Ildefonso. 

He was the first-born son of the Marquis and Marchioness 
of Villamelon, grandees of Spain ; the former being cham- 
berlain to his Majesty the King, and the latter maid of 
honor to her Majesty the Queen. It was the last child for 
whom Ferdinand stood godfather in this valley of tears; 
fifteen months afterwards he descended into the tomb in the 
royal palace of Madrid, fulfilling to the letter the simile of 
the bottle of beer to which the sly monarch compared his 


28 


CURRITA 


people. He was the cork that popped out ; the revolution 
was the foamy liquid which diffused itself on all sides. 

That same afternoon Ferdinand wished to examine his 
godson closely ; and in his own room, hidden in the depths of 
his arm-chair, he took the newly born upon his knees, opened 
its little mouth with one finger, and put his nose of pure 
Bourbon lineage inside, as if he wished to examine the nar- 
row opening of the throat. The case was marvellous, and 
Ferdinand, frightened upon ascertaining the fact, withdrew 
his nose promptly. The young Villamelon had come into 
the world with all his teeth complete. 

Henri IV. was born with two front teeth, Mirabeau with 
two jaw-teeth, and whoever surpassed to such an extent the 
great King and the famous tribune, evidently of him also 
great things should be expected. Villamelon senior wept 
with joy, and the Count of Alcudia, who happened to be 
there at the time, advised him to employ for the lactation 
of his son the twenty-seven cows and forty goats which 
served as suckling nurses to the infant hippopotamus, gift of 
Abbas-Pacha, which was being brought up in Paris in the 
Jardin des Plantes. But Ferdinand VII. argued that they 
should give him chops to suck, and wean him afterwards 
with alcohol ; and that same night he sent to his godson as 
a christening present a large carving-knife of massive gold, 
which had the arms of Spain engraved on the handle. 

The Queen also desired to examine the prodigy, putting 
the tip of her rosy finger in the little Villamelon’ s mouth ; 
and Don Tadeo Calomarde, who came in at that moment, 
wishing to make the same experiment, introduced his finger 
stained with ink. Whereupon the child pressed with all his 
might upon it his precocious set of teeth, causing the 
minister to give a slight scream. 

“ One can see he is no fool,” said Ferdinand VII. 

All laughed at the monarch’s repartee, and the saying 
spread from the royal chamber to the parlors, through the 
ante-salas, and down the staircases, everybody, very much 
astonished, commenting upon the infant’s talent, and assert- 


CURRITA 


29 


ing that when only three days old he had recited to his 
august godfather the Our Father, Hail Mary, part of the 
litany of Loretto, and a little fable by Don Tomas Iriarte, — 
the one which begins : — 

“ Through a copse, 

Followed by dogs — 

I don’t say ran, 

But flew, a rabbit.” 

The event was extraordinary, and thence originated his 
reputation as man of talent which the future Marquis of 
Villamelon was to enjoy, until his repeated absurdities 
should destroy it. 

At the age of twenty, having by the death of his father 
come into possession of his title, he entered the Academy of 
Artillery, and in the year ’59 proceeded to the African war, 
on board a squadron commanded by General Don Segundo 
Herrera. Anxious to set foot on African soil, and to stain 
his virgin sword with Agaric blood, Villamelon landed at a 
place called Black Cape, with sufficient courage to travel 
through all the land of the Moors and arrive at Tunis, 
where his grandfather had won greatness by entering the 
Alcazaba with John of Austria. 

But suddenly, from among the dense reeds which covered 
the reddish shore, like the bristly hair of a wild beast, 
several disbanded natives burst forth, and fired upon the 
explorers. Villamelon did not hesitate an instant ; he 
forgot the land of the Moors, gave up Tunis, disowned the 
grandfather who had gained greatness in the Alcazaba, and 
made with all haste for the sloop Blanca, where he hid him- 
self in the farthest corner of his stateroom, and did not 
show himself again on deck until the} 7 were on their return 
journey to the Peninsula, pleading sickness as his excuse. 
The natives had seemed very ugly to him in that short inter- 
view, and so badly educated that it was impossible for any 
decent person to have anything to do with them. 

He afterwards asked to be retired, and entered Madrid 


30 


CURRITA 


triumphantly, like Napoleon on his return to Paris from the 
Egyptian campaign, preceded by the fame of his exploits in 
the terra-naval combat of Black Cape. The story of the 
terra-naval combat circulated through all the Court, very 
much exaggerated by the hero himself ; and one day when 
he was acting guard of the palace, as grandee of Spain, 
and was mentioning for the hundredth time during dinner 
the terra-naval combat of Black Cape, the Queen said to 
him suddenly : — 

“Look, Villamelon; why not vary it occasionally? 
Don’t say always ‘ terra-naval ; ’ if only for to-day, let it 
be navo-terrestre .” 

And Villamelon for the rest of his life was dubbed 
navo-terrestre, baptized by royal lips. 

The Marquis was at that time, without being a spend- 
thrift, very much of a libertine, but not with that arista 
era tic libertinage of the Lauzuns and the Frousacs, genteel 
even in their vices, gentlemanly even in their infamy, who 
shook off from themselves all that was vulgar and gross, 
with the same elegant grace with which they would shake 
off from their lace frills the ashes of their perfumed tobacco. 
His libertinage was, on the contrary, that other libertinage so 
common in Spain among the young men of high families, a 
strange mixture and hybrid type of the common fellow and 
the sportsman, of the gypsy and the muscadin, which one 
would say was born of the antithetical marriage of an An- 
dalusian bull with a Parisian soubrette. Tired at last of 
bar-maids and ballet-girls, of bulls and of handicaps, of 
manzanilla and champagne, of tripe and of foie-gras he 
resolved to end it all, that is, — to get married ! 

But in order for Villamelon to make an end, it was neces- 
sary that some daughter of Eve should make a beginning ; 
that is to say, by one of those anomalies which have their 
reason for existence in the crooked standard of certain 
social classes, it is agreed that the same marriage in which 
the man thinks of ending, the woman decides to begin. 

The work of selection, Vembarras du choix, as he him- 


CURRITA 


31 


self said, was not very difficult for Villamelon, for he was 
not fastidious in any of his ideas. He believed in God 
as an excellent person, with whom he discharged his duty 
to excess by leaving for him from time to time a card in 
the chancel of the church. Man was for him a very well 
arranged digestive tube ; life a pilgrimage, which, with the 
purse well replete and the stomach well filled, could be 
made conveniently; and marriage the fusion of two in- 
comes, and the prolongation of a race which would bear his 
illustrious name, in the same manner that the bulls of 
Veraguas, or the mares of Mecklenburg would bear theirs. 

One saw Villamelon, then, the hero of the navo-terrestre 
combat of Black Cape, who had been so much terrified at 
the relative nudity of the natives, ask without repugnance 
and obtain without fright the hand of an illustrious savage, 
completely bare of soul. For just as in forests and deserts 
one meets with savages, who offend decency by the naked- 
ness of their bodies, so also one finds in plazas and draw- 
ing-rooms other savages, dressed exteriorly, who insult 
modesty by the interior nakedness of their souls. For 
them it is useless, no matter how many adornments more or 
less artificial humanity makes use of, to hide their vices. 
The virtuous blush no less than false hypocrisy, noble 
decorum as well as deceitful preoccupation, provoke from 
them the same loud laugh of incredulous wonder as that 
which burst from Cetewayo the dethroned King of the 
Zulus, at the sight of the shirt which his English conquerors 
offered him. 

This illustrious civilized savage was her Excellency Senora 
Dona Francisca de Borja Soliz y Gorbea, Countess of 
Albornoz, Marchioness of Catanalzar, twice grandee of 
Spain in her own right, and Marchioness of Villamelon and 
of Paracuellar, with the added greatness of her illustrious 
husband, as hero of the navo-terrestre battle of Black Cape. 
But by one of those exceptions which remove in some sort 
the individual from the general rules of the type, in order 
to create in it a special character, the Countess had a mod- 


32 


CURRITA 


esty all her own, — a strange modesty, which could very 
well be called the modesty of her husband. For this couple, 
far from being, like so many others of their class, the pair of 
dogs which try to walk as far apart as the very elastic chain 
that unites them permits, were, on the contrary, seen always 
together everywhere, he teasing her with affectionate atten- 
tions, and she returning them with the moues of a timid 
child, or an innocent school-girl, whose enchanting enfantil- 
lage added to her shameless cynicism produced in one’s 
imagination the strange effect of a Carib drinking from a 
very dainty little cup of Bohemian glass, little by little, and 
sip by sip, foaming warm blood, or of a cannibal, who, with 
knife and fork of brightest silver, would cut with the 
greatest possible grace a steak of human flesh. Villamelon, 
nevertheless, had realized his dream ; for his wife prolonged 
his race by adding to it a boy and a girl, and his income, 
which, as he expressed it, furnished the dinner, united to hers 
furnished in its turn the supper. He supped and dined with 
all the sumptuous rules of the art; for Villamelon always 
honored his precocious set of teeth and the carving-knife of 
massive gold, gift of his august godfather, being a glutton 
as well as a gastronomist, a gourmand as well as a gourmet , 
a tunnel without end as to the quantity he ate and drank, 
and an intelligent Brillat-Savarin as to the quality and style 
of that which he devoured, always deaf to the clamors of 
indigestion, which from time to time took upon itself to 
preach morals to his stomach. The wife for her part was 
also happy ; immersed in her shame, like the Greek heroes 
of Stygia, she had made herself invulnerable, and with her 
infinite audacity, and her cynical feminine knavery, obtained 
the only end of her life and the natural desire of her immense 
vanity, which was to exalt herself above everybody else, to 
be always the first, and to manage that all tongues should 
pay her homage, being constantly occupied, either for good 
or for evil, which, mattered very little, with her own person 
and her own affairs. One could say of her what an elegant 
writer once said of a certain person: “If she assists at a 


CURRITA 


33 


wedding she would like to be the bride ; if at a christening, 
the newly born ; and if at a funeral, the corpse.” And 
although nobody could have explained the reason why 
Currita enjoyed this supremacy at Court, nevertheless, with 
that shameful condescension to the scandalous which is in 
our opinion the capital sin of high Madrid society, and 
the origin and fount of its deformities, everybody, from 
the polished gentleman to the elegant gambler, from the 
honored lady to the woman without decorum, subjected 
themselves to her in a manner more or less direct, without 
ceasing on that account to proclaim that in beauty she was 
excelled by all, in family she was equalled by many, in 
riches surpassed, but that in audacity and assurance she 
marched always first. Could this, then, be the reason of that 
supremacy? Can it be that from the habit of seeing vice 
refined and from breathing the atmosphere of scandal, cer- 
tain societies reach the aberration of those barbarous peo- 
ples who pay their most profound homage and their most 
enthusiastic worship to the most monstrous idol? Let us 
limit ourselves to mentioning the fact, without attempting 
to analyze it, and let us see what Currita did that afternoon 
at the Duchess of Bara’s house. 

The latter had half risen in her seat when Currita ap- 
proached her, bowing to right and left, to the sound of the 
hymn of Dona Maria Victoria, repeating with her customary 
frank little laugh : — 

“Thanks! thanks, beloved people!” 

“ A tout seigneur , tout honneur /” the Duchess said to her, 
returning her kisses. 

All grouped themselves around Currita, who had seated 
herself next to the Duchess, declining a cup of tea which 
was offered her, and requesting instead a small glass of 
whiskey, for it was de rigueur at that time among some ele- 
gant women, who pretended to form the heart of la crime, 
to smoke and drink to their heart’s content, with much dis- 
tinction and grace. The worthy Butron offered her a 
cigar. 


34 


CURRITA 


44 Ah! no, no,” she said in a melodious little voice, 44 this 
is like a straw ; you, Gorito, give me a stronger one.” 

And while Gorito gave her one capable of making a cav- 
alry sergeant fall over backwards, and while she lighted it 
daintily with a prosaic match, the Duchess said to her : — 

44 But go ahead, my dear ; tell us all about it ! ” 

44 And what have I to tell?” she asked between two puffs, 
44 since I see you know all.” 

44 But is it true? ” asked Butron, confounded. 

44 Most true! ” replied Currita, with emphasis. 

Butron raised both hands to heaven, the Countess of 
Mazacan swept with a triumphant glance the horrified com- 
pany, and the Duchess, furious, exclaimed violently : — 

4 4 And you have the assurance to say so ? and the courage 
to come and tell it here in my house ? ” 

Currita seemed to be very much surprised, in fact almost 
frightened, and sweeping the whole assembly with her pale, 
admirably perplexed eyes, said in the little pitiful tone of a 
child who is threatened with a whipping : — 

44 But let us understand each other. What is it you have 
heard?” 

44 That you have been appointed first lady-in-waiting to 
the Cisterna,” said Izabel Mazacan, with all her arrogance. 
Currita pretended to faint. 

44 1 ! ” she said, with the rosy indignation of a virgin whose 
virtue is doubted. 44 And you all believed it? ” 

44 No one! No one! ” exclaimed Butron, giving an immense 
gasp like a giant who has had a mountain lifted from his 
breast. 44 Not for a moment has any one doubted your loy- 
alty, my dear child ; and rest assured that — ” 

44 Mon Dieu l Sir, what people! and what tongues! 
what a way of distorting the simplest things ! ” said Currita, 
with failing voice. 

And wiping away with her very fine handkerchief a tear 
which, real or false, appeared in her eyes, she showed with 
affected carelessness the exquisite fleur-de-lis which she wore 
on her breast, and a magnificent gold bracelet, on which, in 


CUKRITA 


35 


large incrusted diamonds, one could decipher the monogram 
of Isabella II. 

“The case could not be simpler,” she continued with that 
soft little voice which never changed its same deliberate 
tone. “Yesterday, in the Council, they discussed the ap- 
pointment of lady-in-waiting, — for really the position of 
that poor Cisterna 1 could not be more difficult, — when, if 
you please, the Minister of Ultramar took it into his head to 
propose that they should make me the offer.” 

“The good-for-nothing!” screamed Leopoldina Pastor; 
“ and your husband has not stabbed him yet?” 

“ To be sure, he deserves it ; but after all it is poor Ferdi- 
nand’s fault,” continued Currita, with the air of a long-suffer- 
ing spouse. 4 4 He interested himself in obtaining the private 
secretaryship to Don Amadeo for his friend Juanito Velarde, 
and spoke to the minister about it. The latter helped him, 
and, being emboldened by that, has presumed too far, just 
as I told Fernandito ; if one gives these people an inch they 
take an ell. In fact, my dear, the President of the Council 
came in person to make me the proposal. Of course I did 
not receive him ; Fernandito met him, and there was a scene. 
I was half dead with fright, for I thought they were going 
to come to blows in the street, and settle the question with 
shots ; ' but, at last the minister went back whence he came, 
with his ears burning, and God knows what they will say of 
me now to be revenged. This is all that happened; so I 
thought on coming in, when I heard the hymn, and saw 
Gorito’s salute, that you were poking fun at me.” 

l We notify the reader from now on, that neither in this nor in any 
of the personages who present themselves in the many historical epi- 
sodes of this novel, discharging official duties, has it been the wish to 
photograph or even allude to those who really may have occupied 
those posts in the epoch to which we refer. For, although many per- 
sonalities are far from being sympathetic to us, they inspire us at least 
with compassion; and when castigating vice and scandal without 
mercy, we take good care not to become irritated against any special 
person, whom repentance may already have placed beyond all censure* 
With more reason than Crevillon we can say : “Jamais aucun Jiel a 
empoisonn€ ma plume” 


36 


CURRITA 


Butron made a profound signal of assent, and the Duchess, 
already completely pacified, and wishing to make amends 
for her previous fit of passion, said vivaciously: — 

“But how could you think anything else?” and seizing 
the wrist on which Currita wore the bracelet of Isabella II., 
she kissed her hand with great tenderness, saying : — 

“ If you were lady-in-waiting to the Cisterna , you would 
deserve to have this bracelet become a fetter.” 

‘ 4 Have you not seen it on me before ? ” said Currita, very 
naively. “ The Queen gave it to me on my last birthday.” 

While the Countess of Albornoz was speaking, Izabel 
Mazacan, very much excited, was whispering to Butron, say- 
ing to him : — 

“But what a grand impostor! and what a way to invent 
stories ; it is a lie, Butron, all a lie ! for Garcia Gomez told 
me that it was in the Court itself that the minister of Ultra- 
mar gave notice of her desire, and that the appointment 
was then accorded, the approbation of the Cisterna being 
taken for granted. To-day, this very morning, the Presi- 
dent of the Council must have gone to notify Currita 
of it.” 

No sooner had Currita ceased speaking than the Countess 
of Mazacan hastened to say aloud, with a marked air of 
triumph : — 

“You see? Did I not tell you all how it was? The same, 
the very same thing that Currita has said, is what Garcia 
Gomez told me.” 

Currita, who had strong reasons to know that Garcia 
Gomez must have said something quite different, gave her 
cigar, which had long since gone out with so much talking, 
a couple of little puffs, and said to the Countess of Mazacan, 
very gently : — 

“ Well, see here ! I also have my little complaint against 
your Garcia Gomez ; for, minister of State though he be, he 
entertains himself in his leisure moments inspecting all the 
correspondence that comes from Paris. Yes, my dear, don’t 
deny it. In the Black Cabinet all the correspondence is 


CURRITA 


37 


opened before it reaches its destination, and on that account 
he was able to say in the Council that a letter came for me 
yesterday from the Queen, which must prove to the Ministry 
the absurdity of their pretensions.” 

Everybody understood, and Butron first of all, to which 
letter Currita alluded ; and they all exclaimed in a general 
chorus, in which the sordid tones of envy predominated : — 

“ The Queen has written to you?” 

“Yes,” replied Currita, “she writes inviting me to the 
first communion of Prince Alfonso in Rome.” 

And she looked from head to foot at Izabel Mazacan, 
whose ill-concealed desire to accompany the dethroned Queen 
on this expedition was known to all. The latter, who for a 
long time had been feeling furious itchings in her tongue, 
was about to discharge some of her crudities ; but Butron, 
not being at all overjoyed to see his diplomatic coup shat- 
tered, hastened to stop her by leading her to the enclosure of 
a window, where for some time they discoursed earnestly. 

In the meantime Currita, with her vague look fixed on 
space, as was always her strange custom while speaking, did 
not lose sight of them, tracing out at the same time her 
itinerary. In the early part of July she expected to go 
with Fernandito to Belgium, to spend a short month with 
Mariano Osuna, in his castle of Beauraing ; afterwards she 
did n’t know exactly where she would go, until the 15th of 
October, the date set for the meeting with the Queen in Mar- 
seilles to take the trip to Rome. Perhaps she would go to 
Trouville. She had spent the preceding summer there, in a 
beautiful villa opposite the Chalet Cordier which belonged 
to Monsieur Thiers. To be sure, Thiers was a ridiculous old 
man, but very congenial, and very honest, in spite of being 
a Republican ; his wife, a bourgeoises so so, in fact rather 
passable. And the sister-in-law Mile. Dosne, the Pres- 
ident’s Egerian nymph ? It was most delightful to see her 
sew the buttons on the coat of her “ beau-frere Adolphe.” 
She looked like the housekeeper of a well-to-do notary. 

“It was a delicious trio.” And with her schoolgirlisb 


38 


CURRITA 


ingenuity Currita then described in all its details a very 
piquant caricature of the Thiers couple. 

“ The Duke of Decazes sent me a copy, and I could not 
resist the temptation to forward it by mail, in a paper wrap- 
per, to Mile. Dosne. What a face she must have made ! 
— she who is so prudish, so proper ! ” 

And in the next breath, without any transition whatso- 
ever, Currita became profoundly affected at the thought of 
the immense pleasure she expected to derive in Rome, kiss- 
ing the sandal of his Holiness, Pope Pius IX. What a 
gigantic figure that of the Pontiff ! What a venerable old 
man that ! And all the ladies began to ponder upon their 
adhesion to the Holy Pius IX. , ready to sacrifice to him life, 
property, all, everything, with the exception of their souls, 
they having been already promised of old to the devil. Car- 
men Tagle said she had always looked upon him as her grand- 
father ; Lopez Moreno’s wife added, very much moved, that 
every year she sent him a barrel of twelve arrobes , or three 
hundred and eighty-four pints, of very rich wine made from 
the muscatel grapes of her sherry vineyards. The Duchess, 
really indignant, called to mind the tumults in which, five 
days before, the multitude had indulged, breaking the illu- 
minated lamps of the fete with which the Catholics were 
celebrating the anniversary of the Pontificate of the august 
old man. In the Palace of Medinacoeli alone, they broke 
twenty- two lamps, and thirty-seven window-panes. And 
meanwhile the ministers and the authorities solaced them- 
selves with an instrumental concert, given in the palace. 
What a government this ! and what an impious and loath- 
some populace ! At least they venerated the person of the 
Pontiff, and lighted lamps in his honor, only limiting them- 
selves to stoning at all hours the divine law of God whom 
the former represented. The ladies did not say this, of 
course, but Don Casimiro Pantojas, who had been attentively 
listening to them, thought so, without saying so, after hav- 
ing broken off all the ears of an entire family of unfortunate 
little china rabbits, and pulled off the tails cf a little pair of 
bull-dogs made in Bristol. 


CURKITA 


39 


At this moment Izabel Mazacan concluded her conversa- 
tion with the Marquis of Butron, and excusing herself to 
Currita for not accompanying her on her visit to the Found- 
ling Hospital, as it was already quite late, she left, seemingly 
somewhat disgusted. Currita then decided to return to her 
home, and the Marquis of Butron made his adieux at the 
same time. 

“ Have you a carriage, Butron?” she asked the diplomat. 

“ No,” hurriedly replied the former, taking advantage of 
the occasion, which so soon offered itself, of speaking alone 
with Currita. 

“ Then I will take you in my brougham wherever you 
like.” 

“ To the Calle of Izabel la Catolica ; I have business to 
attend to at the German Embassy.” 

“ It is just on my way.” 

Currita descended the stairs leaning on Butron’s arm, 
finding at the foot of them her brougham, an exquisite gew- 
gaw, a veritable toy lined in blue satin with velvet buttons, 
looking like the delicate case destined to guard a jewel. The 
diplomat was not quite at ease. As far as he was concerned, 
it was evident that Izabel Mazacan had not exaggerated or 
lied, when she repeated what the handsome minister, Garcia 
Gomez, had told her. But how, then, interpret Currita’ s sud- 
den change ? The opportune letter of Queen Isabella might 
completely explain it, for, the forgetfulness of the abdication 
atoned for, and Currita relieved, she might in time renounce 
her revenge. Tranquil thus far, Butron nevertheless wished 
to secure more fully to the party Currita’ s precious alliance ; 
for there are certain indiscreet, and in the long run funereal 
policies, which, although having honest aims, do not know 
how to abstract loathsome individualities. To sweep within 
was Butron’s policy, as if the refuse would be of use any- 
where, or for any other purpose than to infect the spot which 
contained it. He came, then, directly to the point; the 
carriage was no sooner in motion than he asked her categor- 
ical explanations of the event, supported by the authority 


40 


CURRITA 


of his years, by the familiarity of his kinship with Villa- 
melon, and by his dignity as chief of the Feminine Brigade 
of conspirators. But Currita, opening wide her light eyes, 
and very much frightened and offended, almost crying, con- 
tented herself with repeating the story already referred to, 
with new affirmations and protests. To suppose anything 
else was a veritable insult. For whom did he take her ? 
Had she not all her life given proofs of the most loyal affec- 
tion for the royal family ? And even if she should be 
guilty of such infamy, would Fernandito, whose blood had 
been shed in the nayo-terrestre combat of Black Cape, at 
the call of Isabella H., have permitted it ? He actually had 
such a hatred of the intrusive house of Savoy, that he never 
sealed a letter without standing poor Don Amadeo on his 
head. What had Izabel Mazacan been telling him, she 
whose intimacy with the revolutionary minister ought to 
make her so suspicious ? For did not everybody know that 
the said Countess of Mazacan was an intrigante , who had 
been working for the trip to Rome with the Queen in order 
to arrange certain difficulties arising out of an old liaison 
with an Italian prince, which she wanted to conceal from 
Garcia Gomez ? 

And Currita said such things, and made such protests, 
emphasizing them with such an accent, that even Butron, 
notwithstanding his astuteness, was perplexed, and between 
the contrary affirmations of these two equally deceitful 
countesses he only obtained a new confirmation of that 
• practical principle which he had professed all his life, that 
woman abhors the serpent through jealousy and envy of 
his office. 

In the meantime the brougham ran on rapidly, turning 
corners with those graceful curves which the ready hand of 
an expert coachman exercises on a fiery team. In the middle 
of Calle Turca, and dominating the noisy roll of the car- 
riage, a strange, distant rumor reached the ears of the 
pair, a sort of dull murmur, menacing and awe-inspiring, 
common only to the boisterous sea and to turbulent multi- 


CURRITA 


41 


tudes. Currita and Butron looked at each other surprised, 
and then noticed several stragglers coming hurriedly from 
Calle Alcala, and the concierge of the School of Engineers, 
who was hurriedly closing the door of that edifice. This 
was very common in those days of continual riots, and the 
brougham advanced without stopping as far as Calle Alcala, 
so as .to turn afterwards into Calle de Barquillo. This, 
however, was impossible, — a large and compact human 
cordon, composed of a heterogeneous and motley multitude, 
filled Calle Alcala throughout its entire extent, from one 
end to the other as far as the eye could reach. This was 
a peaceful demonstration of the democracy, which with 
great shouts, large cudgels, and strange hoisted banners 
advanced towards the palace, demanding an appointment 
in the ministry for Don Manuel Ruiz Zorrilla. 

Currita’ s coachman, Tom Sickles, an enormous specimen 
of the automatic Briton, who clamored for the three-cornered 
hat and powdered wig, and had sat upon the box of the Duke 
of Edinburgh’s carriage in London, and in Paris on that of 
the Princess Matilda, headed the horses running parallel to 
the demonstration, to see if the head of the latter was ad- 
vancing, and if he could get into the Calle del Caballero de 
Garcia, or the Calle de Peligros. But it was already too 
late, and he found himself obliged to stop in front of the 
Veloz Club, in the midst of the crowd of luxurious equipages 
returning from La Castellana, and humble cabmen who 
were trying in vain to cross from one side to the other. 
Butron wished to hurry back and go out by some side street 
to the Avenue of San Jeronimo. 

“But really, this is very amusing,” said Currita, with 
childish glee. “How charming! Look, Butron; see how 
pretty they all look with their little pink ribbons! Ugh! 
that little hunchback ! What a monkey ! Ah ! the rascal ! 
he is carrying a banner on which Reform is written. Well, 
it is quite certain he needs it, poor little thing ! — especially 
for his back.” 

Another carriage at this moment crossed between the 


42 


CURRITA 


crowd and the brougham, impeding Currita’s view. In it 
was the Civil Governor of Madrid, very plump and pom- 
pous, on his way to the palace ; but he also was obliged to 
stop. 

“ There goes that mastodon,” whispered Butron to Cur- 
rita. “If he sees us together, he will imagine we are 
conspiring.” 

These simple words of the diplomat seemed to awaken in 
Currita one of those daring ideas which one suddenly con- 
ceives, although they may not ripen for years to come. 
She showed herself at the carriage window as if she wished 
the Governor to see her, and without acknowledging the 
respectful salute which he gave upon perceiving her, she 
drew herself back quickly into the carriage, covering half of 
her face with her handkerchief, as if trying to conceal herself. 

“How badly the democracy smells!” she said, in order 
to hide from Butron these manoeuvres. “What a pest 
they breed ! ” 

The Governor’s carriage at last pulled out laboriously, 
lengthwise into the street, and from that moment Currita, 
nervous and agitated, seemed to become very impatient on 
account of that same delay which had so much amused her 
a short time before. Opposite her, a little more towards 
la Puerta del Sol, were seen on the balconies of the Veloz 
Club under its summer awnings, clusters of idle members, 
who watched the populace defiling before them, with that 
species of cowardly curiosity, mocking as well as timid, 
with which people contemplate from the height of a tendido 1 
the terrible sports of a herd of ridiculous wild beasts. It 
seemed impossible to them in that moment that the beasts 
should ever raise their claws against them. 

The sight of these elegant spectators increased Currita’s 
impatience, and she displayed before them in such a manner 
her anxiety to make an exhibition and distinguish herself, 
that she almost put the coachman’s finger out of joint with 

1 Row of seats for spectators at a bull-fight. — Tr. 


CURRITA 


43 


the vigorous pull she gave the cord, as she poked her head 
out of the little window, screaming : — 

u Go on, Tom, go on ! run through ! head them off ! ” 

Tom did not wait for the order to be repeated ; he threw 
out his herculean breast, drawing in the reins with the force 
of those ancient wagoners sculptured by Phidias on the walls 
of the Parthenon, who stand in a chariot and control with 
one hand the gallop of four horses. He chirped to his 
horses, pulling them back on their hind feet, touched them 
softly with the whip, and loosening the reins suddenly, sent 
them flying with the velocity and the impulse of an arrow, 
through the democratic multitude, disappearing like a flash 
of lightning down the Calle de Peligros. 

A terrible cry of terror and anger rose from the crowd, 
who staggered from one side to the other of the line opened 
by the carriage. The people began to run, terrified. The 
members of the Veloz Club retreated, quickly closing their 
windows, and the hunchback who begged for Reform was 
on the point of suffering it completely beneath the feet of 
the horses and the wheels of the brougham. 

In the meantime Butron, amazed at this proceeding, and 
half dead with fright at such audacity and temerity, hastily 
pulled down the little curtains so that no one would see him, 
and Currita, laughing like a maniac, looked out of the little 
window at the back, to see the stragglers fly for refuge to 
the doorways, and the public guards running behind the 
brougham making signs for them to stop. But Tom Sickles, 
attracting attention with his beet-root countenance, made 
terrible faces, as if the horses were running away with him, 
while with soft vibrations of the reins he urged them on 
more and more. In the Calle of Izabel la Catolica Tom 
Sickles performed another feat: carriage and horses came 
to a sudden stand-still in front of the German Embassy. 
Madame was served, he meriting the triumphal crown of 
the Olympic Games. 

When Currita reached her home she found three carriages 
in a line at her door, and immediately recognized on one 


44 


CURRITA 


of the coachmen the pink cockade common to the Ministry. 
She alighted in her stable, and went up to her rooms by a 
staircase reserved for the use of the servants, without being 
seen by any one. At the sound of her bell, Kate, Madame’s 
English maid, hastened to her. 

44 Who is with my husband? ” she asked. 

44 The Minister of the Interior. The Duke of Bringas 
and Don Juan Velarde are playing billiards/’ 

44 Tell Don Joselito I cannot receive any one; I have a 
very bad headache.” 

Kate seemed to hesitate a moment and decided at last to 
say timidly : — 

44 Not even Don Juan Velarde? ” 

44 No ; no one ! no one ! ” 

Again Kate insinuated with much delicacy : — 

44 The little master will return to-day from college.” 

44 It is true ! Poor Paquito ! ” 

44 And he will wish to see Madame — ” 

44 No, no! let him amuse himself with Lili. To-morrow I 
will see him ; I have a horrible headache.” 


CHAPTER IV 

When Paquito Lujan reached his home, it was beginning to 
grow dark, and the house was already brilliantly lighted. 
Four large nude statues of white marble adorned the stair- 
way and vestibule, uplifting in their artistic hands bronze 
candelabra, each containing six branches. At the foot of 
the staircase, an enormous Norwegian bear, solemnly seated 
on his hind feet, presented with his fore pa^s a silver plate 
destined to receive visiting cards. This was a caprice of 
the Prince of Wales that Currita had seen in Sandringham 
Palace, and which she had hastened to copy at all costs. 

The child’s trouble had disappeared with that happy 
rapidity with which, in childhood, one emotion succeeds 


CURRITA 


45 


another. Impatience, that natural impatience, a mixture 
of a child’s love and a longing to be praised, was the emo- 
tion which agitated him at this moment, anxious as he was 
to throw himself with his premiums into the arms of his 
father and mother and of Lili, the little sister of his heart. 
Seated on the back seat of the carriage, holding fast his 
premiums, he pushed his little feet against the seat in front 
of him, making vigorous efforts to advance, believing that 
he thus helped the carriage to go more rapidly. 

On entering Madrid they lost four minutes in lighting the 
carriage lamps, and a little farther on, the Custom-House 
officers again stopped the carriage in order to register every- 
thing from top to bottom. How aggravating ! and how 
ugly and stupid those men were ! Surely none of them had 
ever had a father or mother or Lili, or had ever received a 
single premium in all the days of their lives. When he was 
big, he would hang all the Custom-House employees, string- 
ing them up like the sausages he had once seen in the 
majordomo’s chimney at Extremadura. Turning the cor- 
ner of the University a carriage got in the way, afterwards 
a furniture wagon, and then a big omnibus, and they had to 
lose another three minutes ! When they finally came to the 
last street the child already had his hand on the handle of 
the carriage door, ready to open it, showing at the same 
time his little face at the window ; for surely his father, or 
mother, or Lili, or perhaps all three together would be 
watching for him from some balcony. He would show them 
the premiums from the carriage window ; and they would 
think he had only one, but would soon see he had five, and 
two excellences. What a surprise for them then! But 
the balconies were all closed, and not a living soul was 
seen. The carriage turned at last into the porte-cochere, 
making the window-panes of the large vestibule door rattle, 
and stopped at the foot of the broad, carpeted staircase. 
This was also deserted, and the boy saw at its foot only the 
solemn Norwegian bear Bruin, as they called him, opening 
his large mouth armed with enormous teeth, and presenting 


46 


CURRITA 


him the salver, as if inviting him to deposit his premiums 
upon it. But he did not do so, and hugging them to his 
breast he ran up the steps until he reached the vestibule. 
There a strange figure blocked the entrance, walking up 
and down with his hands behind his back. It was a hide- 
ous, but perfectly proportioned dwarf, a veritable pigmy, 
rival of the famous Roby who was served on the table of 
the King of Saxony in a venison pie. He was a little over 
three feet in height, and was correctly dressed d, la mode in 
evening attire, white cravat, knee breeches, black silk stock- 
ings, and slippers with buckles. He was called Don Joselito, 
and received a salary of seven thousand reals, with the sole 
obligation of announcing visitors, and of increasing with his 
odd figure the reputation of elegant originality which clung 
to Currita in everything. 

The dwarf inclined respectfully before the little gentle- 
man, and with his small, shrill, and somewhat imperious 
voice, told him he could not see the Countess as she had 
retired half an hour before with a frightful headache. A 
sudden cloud of tears darkened the boy’s beautiful blue 
eyes ; he turned his back brusquely on the dwarf without 
saying a word, and ran towards his father’s apartments. 
Villamelon was leaning back at full length in an arm-chair 
conversing mysteriously with the government minister. The 
boy rushed to his father and throwing his arms around his 
neck kissed him twice. 

“Well! little man!” exclaimed Villamelon; “back al- 
ready ? I am very glad ! ” 

And as he saw that the child, with a certain bashful pride, 
presented him with his premiums, he added, without taking 
them : — 

“Well! well! the premiums! poor little fellow! very 
good, very good, I am pleased. Eh! take this, and tell 
German to take you to the circus to-night.” 

And giving the child two pesetas , 1 which he took out of 
his waistcoat pocket, he turned to take up again the thread 

1 The value of a peseta is 19.3 cents. — Tr. 


CURRITA 


47 


of his mysterious conversation with the minister. The boy 
stood still a moment, with his eyes wide open. Then sud- 
denly he turned half round on one foot, and red as a 
pomegranate, reeling as if he was intoxicated, walked 
towards a little table full of curious knick-knacks. Under- 
neath it was a Japanese figure with its mouth wide open, 
into which with much dissimulation he threw his father’s gift, 
the two pesetas. Then running headlong out of the little 
parlor, he stopped a moment in the doorway behind the cur- 
tains, and very much oppressed, with his little arms hanging 
and head bowed, followed a corridor which led to the nurs- 
ery, that exile and Siberia of children, which the impartial 
egotism of the Countess of Albornoz had imported from 
England to her home, for her children. 

At one end of the gallery resounded a piano very much 
out of tune, which seemed to stammer out unwillingly a 
monotonous theme from Hanon’s exercises. Nevertheless, 
this music sounded like a celestial concert in the ears of 
the child ; his depression disappeared, his joy beamed forth 
again, and he began to run again in that direction. 

“ Lili! ” 

“ Paquito ! ” 

An angel, a most beautiful little doll of nine years, 
jumped from the piano-stool to throw herself into the arms 
of the boy ; then they mingled for a moment their kisses, 
their shouts, their laughter, and their joys, their pure souls 
and their innocent lives, as were mingled the golden curls 
which surrounded, like an aureole of sun’s rays, the exquisite 
heads of both. 

Presently the boy remembered his premiums. 

“Look! look!” 

Lili, astonished, opened her eyes wide, bit her lips, and put 
her little hands behind her; her criticism was the criticism 
of great admiration, a monosyllabic criticism. 

“ Uy ! ” she said. 

“ Five ! I have five, and two excellences! ” 

“Will you give me one, Paquito? ” 


48 


CURRITA 


“Silly! These are not given away, they are framed. 
Pepito Vargas says his mamma puts his in a frame.” 

“How big?” said Lili, pointing with her little hands to 
one capable of containing the “Pasmode Sicilia .” 1 

“Yes! very large, and look! this one is for arithmetic, 
and this — ” 

He could not continue ; a dry hand glued to an immacu- 
late cuff appeared from behind the curtains, then a long 
arm, and presently a sharp-pointed shoulder, with finally 
a red countenance, characteristic, original, and as British as 
Bass’s ale or Huntley’s biscuits. 

“ Mademoiselle ! ” said Lili, frightened. 

And the dry hand glued to the immaculate cuff seized 
the child by one arm, and pulled her inside, while a metallic 
and strident voice, which rent the ear-drums like a creaking 
spring, was heard saying : — 

“What’s this, Miss? You must practise your piano 
lesson until eight o’clock.” 

The boy then fled, running blindly on to the nursery, and 
flung himself head-foremost upon his little white bed, with 
the irritated bitterness and the dark desperation of the 
suicide, who throws himself, alone and without hope, into 
an abyss, obscure, black, and profound. Sleep, blessed 
sleep, the faithful friend of children, and sweet consoler of 
all their troubles, came at last to still his sobs and restrain 
his tears ; he slept, even there, without changing his position, 
still dressed, and with his premiums in his hands. 

Meanwhile Villamelon continued his mysterious discourse 
with the minister. The Marquis was at that time forty 
years of age, and the ravages of age could be prematurely 
seen in his countenance. His nose was red and somewhat 
pimply, his cheeks hollowed, showing the bones, his stomach 
arched, and everything in him denoted that caricature of 

1 The author refers to the size of the celebrated painting by- 
Raphael in the Madrid Gallery, known in the artistic world as the 
"Pasmo de Sicilia” (Wonder of Sicily). — Tr. 


CURRITA 


49 


youth which makes many appear old before their time. 
His figure had been graceful, and still preserved some 
vestige of elegance, but his countenance was the perfect 
image of the dwarf of Philip IV. called “ The Cousin,” 
which Velasquez painted, and Goya copied, engraving it in 
aqua fortis. He had the same hooked nose, the same sad 
eyes, the same twisted moustache, the same extensive and 
thoughtful forehead, with the single difference that Villa- 
melon parted his already scanty locks in the middle, with a 
stroke which, beginning at the roots of the hair, reached 
the occiput, forming over the ears two little horns. This 
lofty forehead, of large proportions, which claimed for 
itself the saying of the fox to the bust, “ Thy head is 
handsome, but without brains,” had in fact magnificent 
attributes when furrowed as it was at this moment with 
a vertical wrinkle, as he bent towards the most Excellent 
Senor Don Juan Antonio Martinez, Minister of the Interior, 
and said to him with the air of Bismarck to Gortschakoff 
upon re-establishing between them European equilibrium : 

“Undeceive yourself, Martinez; the thesis of Dr. Wood 
is absurd. Nobody will prove to me that rat pie is superior 
to hedge-hog and squirrel pie. You understand me, do 
you not?” 

His Excellency Martinez made a gesture which did not 
signify whether he understood or not; for from the time 
the poor gentleman had crossed the natural bridge that 
leads from the blue bench to the great tables of the Court, 
he had passed from indigestion to indigestion, and felt in 
his stomach a longing for his native garlic soups, which had 
made of him such a robust statesman, and which constituted 
his daily diet in the times when he tore his first trousers 
playing with the gamin of a certain beach, on the Asturian 
coast. Great heavens! what atrocious pains he had had 
in his stomach from the pate de foie-gras last Friday at the 
palace ! and what a still more terrible attack of colic from 
le chou a la creme which was served two days before at the 
French Embassy. Martinez thought for a moment he had 

4 


50 


CURRITA 


been poisoned, and from that time held for his article of 
faith Addison’s principle : — 

“ When I see fashionable tables, covered with all the 
delicacies from the four quarters of the globe, I imagine I 
discern gout, dropsy, fever, lethargy, and the majority of 
sicknesses hidden in ambush under each cover.” 

“You will see, Martinez,” continued Villamelon ; “next 
Thursday I ’ll have the two pies served without saying what 
they contain, and we ’ll see which will be declared the favor- 
ite. Do you understand me, Martinez ? It is not necessary 
to say I count on your vote.” 

The hair of his Excellency stood on end at the prospect 
of an indigestion of rats. How could he cure himself unless 
he swallowed a cat? 

“ And all this,” continued Villamelon, with a slight smile, 
which traitorously denounced his interior conviction of the 
superiority with which he handled the subject, “is nothing 
more than English eccentricity, influencing and spoiling 
their cuisine. And mind, I am impartial; for my cuisine 
is eclectic, the best in the world, come whence it may ; 
this is my opinion. Do you understand me, Martinez? 
But there, it is useless to discuss the subject, my friend, for, 
no matter what people say, in their cooking, as in every- 
thing else, France heads the list. This cannot be denied, 
Martinez. The English devour, the Germans gorge, the 
Italians eat, the Spaniards nourish themselves, but only 
the French enjoy, and this is the point, Martinez, — to enjoy 
eating. Do you understand me ? ” 

Martinez did not understand, and taking offence at what 
was only a tiresome repetition of speech of Villamelon’s, — 
so much “ Martinez,” and so much “ do you understand? ” 
— he hastened to reply something exasperating : — 

“To enjoy? or to burst, Marquis? — which is quite a 
different thing.” 

“No! no, no; a thousand times no, Martinez! That is 
one of many prejudices. Do you understand me? It is 
quite true that man is a weak, insufficient being, who can 


CURRITA 


51 


scarcely support eight daily meals ; but indigestion does 
not come from eating much, but from eating badly. Give 
me a first-class cook, of quality, d’elan, and I will guarantee 
you eternal health. Oh! well did Prince Orloff, with his 
squint eye and one hand, understand it. I have seen him 
in Paris select a cook from a public competition ; ten went 
to his palace at the Russian Embassy; I was one of the 
jury, and we tried before passing sentence one hundred and 
forty dishes . 1 Ah ! no, no, Martinez ; it is not eating much 
that causes indigestion. My sainted mother used to say, 
“ Belly full, praise be to God.” 

And he became very pompous from the quotation, for 
one of Villamelon’s pleasantries was that of continually 
mentioning his mother, always prefixing her with the title 
of “sainted,” and putting in her mouth aphorisms very 
singular, and often in bad taste, like the one just quoted. 

At this moment the Duke of Bringas and Juanito Velarde, 
who had already finished their game of billiards, came in, 
and very shortly afterwards a servant announced that the 
Countess w'ould not be present at dinner, having already had 
a consomme in her apartments and retired immediately 
afterwards with a frightful headache. 

This news seemed to affect very little the beloved spouse 
of the lady, and the Duke of Bringas, but it produced a 
very bad effect on the Minister of the Interior, making 
one imagine from his signs of regret that something which 
Currita’s absence completely upset had brought him there, 
and made him suffer with patience the culinary absurdities 
of the hero of the navo-terrestre combat of Black Cape. 
As Butron feared, the appointment of first lady-in-waiting 
was beginning to have its consequences. Juanito Velarde 
seemed also very much put out, ate little, and spoke less, 
during the whole course of the dinner. 

Villamelon played his usual role, brandishing the carving- 
knife of massive gold, gift of Ferdinand VII., which he 
had used all his life, and passing through the three distinct 
1 Historical. 


52 


CURRITA 


phases which in this solemn hour reflected themselves in 
his person: profoundly engrossed at first, like a man who 
has on hand a most important business ; communicative, 
but dogmatic, affable, but still circumspect, towards the 
middle of the dinner ; and gay, good-natured, magnanimous, 
and almost tender, at dessert, as if the current of satisfac- 
tion which burst from his stomach endowed him with those 
qualities, which he did not possess while fasting. This 
was the hour to ask favors of him, certain of having them 
granted; and it was also the hour in which Villamelon, 
dominated by a vicious habit resulting from a very bad 
education, of which neither his Sainted Mother nor his 
sweet wife could ever rid him, made little balls out of bread- 
crumbs with the tips of his fingers, and aimed them at the 
nostrils of the guests, with signs of the most affectionate 
kindness and most tender merriment. 

Meanwhile, if some small imp could have raised the roof 
of the Countess of Albornoz’s boudoir he would have dis- 
closed a strange scene. The room was lighted by a large 
lamp, sustained by a nude, life-size negro, admirably carved 
in ebony. Currita, seated before a small and very low 
secretaire, seemed to be completely absorbed in a singular 
caligraphic study, while a very vague smile flitted across her 
lips, similar, not in its terrible aspect, but at least in cunning 
and astuteness, to that which the genius of Liezen Mayer 
put on the lips of Elizabeth of England when representing 
her in the act of signing the death-warrant of her cousin, 
Mary Stuart. 

In her elegant English hand- writing, fine and clear, she 
had written on the top of a sheet of paper : ‘ ‘ What a hand- 
some animal is man ! ” and with marvellous facility had 
continued copying, in all sorts of different letters, this very 
strange and ambiguous phrase, which seemed to be the reflex 
of that intimate idea and hidden thought which never forms 
itself, but is nevertheless the first which every man hastens 
to imprint, when alone. The inscription multiplied itself, 
sometimes in chubby and constrained letters, at other times in 


CUKKITA 


53 


large and fine outlines, again in diminutive characters whose 
little interlaced flies’ feet prolonged themselves in the form 
of a chain-stitch. Currita was employed in this task a full 
half-hour, with the vigor and attention of a busy little child 
writing from a copy, or a prudent swindler trying to falsify 
or disfigure a hand-writing. 

At last she seemed to be satisfied with her efforts, and 
with the chain-stitch and flies’-feet writings, which had not 
the remotest point of resemblance to her usual hand-writing, 
she began to write a letter on a sheet of plain paper, without 
crest or monogram of any description ; the letter was not 
long, and on the envelope was written : — 

‘ * His Excellency the Civil Governor 

OF 

Madrid.” 

It yet remained to be sealed, and Currita, with a cunning 
smile, stamped it, taking care to place the bust of King 
Don Amadeo on his head, and making it fast with two 
or three little impressions of her closed fist, which seemed to 
take great pleasure in plastering the noble monarch, begin- 
ning and end of the Savoyan dynasty. 

Any one would have thought from this that the business 
was finished, and that it was only necessary to call a servant 
to post the mysterious letter. But the illustrious Countess 
judged otherwise : she went into the adjoining room, which 
was her bedroom, and came out again at the end of a full 
quarter of an hour, completely transformed. She had taken 
off her elegant street gown, and put on in its stead a very 
plain black woollen skirt and a shabby mantilla, which hid 
part of her face. In one hand she carried a lighted candle 
in a silver candlestick, and in the other a very large key. 
She picked up the letter and walked out of the room; at this 
moment a distant clock struck half-past eleven. 

Villamelon’s house was one of those old mansions, now 
rare in Madrid, with wide corridors, spacious drawing-rooms, 
and comfortable apartments, surrounded on all sides by 


54 


CURRITA 


small, narrow passage-ways, and private staircases for the 
use of the servants. Currita’s apartments communicated 
with Villamelon’s by the sleeping-room, and by a room con- 
tiguous to the bath-room, with a long passage-way. This 
terminated on one side with Kate’s, the English maid’s, room, 
and on the other by a narrow little staircase, which led to a 
very narrow little garden. Closing the bedroom door, the one 
in the middle of the passage-way, and the one which put the 
boudoir in communication with the two front drawing-rooms, 
the rest of Currita’s apartments remained completely isolated 
and in direct communication with the street, into which a 
little gate opened, cut in the wall of the garden to the rear 
of the palace and behind a little winter sheep-fold. Currita, 
after extinguishing the light at the foot of the stairs, walked 
towards the gate with such freedom and such graceful 
effrontery that one could tell very well this was not the first 
of her nocturnal escapades. 

The night was dark, and the solitary plaza upon which the 
garden gate opened lost itself in the distance among houses 
in the course of construction, lighted here and there by a 
few lanterns, whose light seemed to shine in the midst of a 
haze of yellowish vapor. The open door of a store of ultra- 
marine on the next corner revealed a picture of brilliant 
light, and one could see the shop-keeper in the background, 
immovable behind the counter, adjusting his accounts. 
About forty steps below a scaffolding, a lantern threw into 
relief the black silhouettes of a man in a short jacket and a 
girl in a starched skirt, engaged in a most earnest dialogue. 
Everything else appeared dark and deserted, having an un- 
easy aspect of panoramic view, which was completed by the 
sound of a piano in the distance, proceeding from a fourth 
story, and badly out of tune, upon which reckless hands 
were murdering Bellini’s immortal cavatina, “ Casta diva 
che inargenti .” 

The Countess, the great lady, who so seldom descended 
from her carriage, as if she disdained to tread with her ele- 
gant brodequins the dust of which she was made, threaded 


CURRITA 


55 


these dark rough roads, crossed several lanes deserted at 
this hour, which seemed to be very well known to her, and 
finally emerged into the little plaza of Santo Domingo. The 
concourse of people was still considerable in this always much 
thronged thoroughfare, and Currita went down the hill, in 
order to get into the shelter of the little garden of la Costa- 
nilla de los Angeles. She rapidly crossed la Calle del 
Arenal, turned into Calle de los Fuentes, and making a big 
circuit back of the Ministry of the Interior finally reached 
la Calle de las Carre tas, and deposited with her own hand 
the mysterious letter in the post-office box. If this woman 
was a criminal, she belonged without doubt to that class of 
practical and prudent criminals, who see in every accomplice 
a dangerous road which leads to prison. 

She now undertook her homeward journey, returning 
through the streets by which she had come, without encoun- 
tering more than one obstacle. An old man of very decent 
aspect stopped suddenly before her. Currita, surprised, kept 
close to the wall, and the man then made a motion to give 
her a coin of five centimes, a perra-chica , as it was then 
called, and which is even to-day the name given to these 
small pieces. He had taken her for one of those miserable 
women who, in the small hours of the night, extend in 
silence their emaciated hands to the passers-by, who go on 
their way solicited by rest or lured by vice. 

At least the Countess understood it so, and with a 
great inclination to laugh took the money, still having 
courage to profane with her impure lips that beautiful 
prayer and holy response which Faith gives to her sister 
Charity through the humble mouth of the poor : — 

“ God will reward you ! ” 

When the Countess entered her boudoir, the latter pre- 
sented a sinister aspect: the lamp was dying out in the 
hands of the negro, whose white teeth of incrusted marble 
stood out in the darkness like the smile of an evil genius 
amusing himself in the infernal regions. Three hours after- 
wards, screams and lamentations resounded from the other 


56 


CURRITA 


side of the house. It was Paquito Lujan, who, numbed by 
the freshness of the dawn, and terrified by the darkness, 
awoke there in the nursery, forgotten by the father and 
mother who had given him being, and the seventeen servants 
dedicated to their service. 


CHAPTER V 

The Countess of Albornoz was greatly amused the following 
day, upon hearing her son Paquito relate his strange adven- 
tures of the preceding night, when, upon finding himself 
alone, and in the dark, dressed, and lying in a bed which 
was not his college bed, he began to scream, full of anguish, 
without any one answering his cries. Miss Buteffull heard 
them from her bed, and at once understood the cause; 
probably no one in the house remembered that the poor 
child had returned from college ; perhaps he had been taken 
suddenly ill ; or perhaps burglars had entered his room, and 
were assassinating him. Miss Buteffull felt sorry and lighted 
the candle in her candlestick. A decorous reflection sud- 
denly stopped her ; the case was serious ; she was forty-five 
years old, the boy eleven, and the hour of the night was 
advanced. Should she enter his room alone ? Miss Buteffull 
extinguished the candle. 

Meanwhile the boy’s despairing cries also awoke Magda- 
lena, Lili’s maid, who slept near-by, and the latter ran 
quickly to his assistance. She quieted him with great kind- 
ness, made him lie down, and remained seated by his little 
bed until he went to sleep again. This report produced in 
Currita one of those sudden fits of maternal love which used 
to attack her frequently in her days of despondency. She 
was accustomed to pass at such times whole hours in the 
nursery, playing with her children, eating them up with 
kisses, calling them her little pigeons, having costly toys and 


CURRITA 


57 


all kinds of sweetmeats brought to them, and amusing her- 
self by making fun of Miss Buteffull, and reviling the 
fathers of the College, destroying in half an hour all the 
good which, at the cost of much labor, these had sown and 
would continue to sow in the tender hearts of both children ; 
for one of the great rocks against which the efforts of those 
dedicated to education stumble consists in the imprudent 
and culpable levity in which many parents delight, in pre- 
senting before their children their preceptors or teachers, 
not as intimate friends, intrusted to guide their steps, nor as 
beneficent beings who confer upon them the signal favor of 
forming their hearts and enlightening their understandings, 
but as tyrants who oppress and mortify them, and as jailers 
whose vigilance must be evaded by stratagems or tricks more 
or less innocent. In this way is destroyed the good opinion 
necessary to all those who command in order to be re- 
spected; the human faith indispensable to all those who 
teach in order to be believed ; and only one thing exists, in 
our opinion, which is as prejudicial to education as this is; 
the combat which the child at times discovers between the 
morals of his parents and the morals of his teachers. It is 
impossible to describe the anguishing perplexities and sor- 
rowful doubts which with very sad frequency these contra- 
dictions awaken in the souls of children : one sees in them 
the struggle of the understanding with the heart, the former 
showing that the doctrine of the teacher is sound, the latter 
endeavoring to persuade them that the contrary practices of 
the father, or mother, whom they love so much, cannot be 
bad, and that that thing cannot be certain which, from the 
very fact of being so, gives irremediably to those much 
beloved beings the patent of perverseness. Ah! never will 
the writer of these lines forget the affliction of a poor child, 
model of innocence and judgment, upon hearing a certain 
lesson in the catechism explained ; the boy sat for a while 
very pensive, but presently little by little began to grieve, 
until finally he exclaimed, convulsed, with his heart con- 
tracted, eyes full of tears, and his little hands trembling : 


58 


CURRITA 


“Then — then — my papa is very, very bad — and he 
will go to hell ! ” 

All this mattered very little to Currita, and her inter- 
mittent hailstorm of kisses, pettings, and indiscretions com- 
pletely effaced in Lili’s candid soul her mother’s long neglect 
and indifferent egotism ; but these tempestuous outbursts did 
not succeed in the same way with the boy. In the depths of 
that tender little heart was a hidden little corner in which 
memory was depositing with implacable fidelity a list of all 
the insults, like a grain of poisonous seed amidst healthful 
vegetation, or a sprout of poisonous hemlock, which would 
arouse in this virgin soil a sombre rancor, silent and patient, 
like a sinister tree which produces in the long run the venom- 
ous fruits of hatred. As yet this angelical little heart par- 
doned easily all that it considered an injury, but it had 
already taken a step forward, and it was impossible now to 
forget entirely. 

It was not, however, despondency which had brought the 
Countess of Albornoz on this particular morning to entertain 
herself with her children. She seemed, on the contrary, pre- 
occupied and a bit restless ; one could see in her that nervous 
agitation which affects all those who expect anything they 
fear, or which is of importance to them. Lili had a very 
happy idea : she proposed to her mother to have Paquito 
photographed with his premiums. The boy grew scarlet, and 
shook his head negatively. 

“ Why, that ’s so ! ” exclaimed Currita, enchanted. “ This 
very minute. You will see how pretty they will be. Ger- 
man, tell the Marquis we are coming up to his gallery to be 
photographed.” 

The boy, upon hearing this, tore himself away from Lili’s 
arms, who jumping for joy had embraced him, and exclaimed 
with energetic wrath: “No! no! not papa!” 

“ But why not? ” said Currita, surprised, grasping him by 
the arm. 

The child, crimson, and very much affected, struggled to 
free himself, his beautiful eyes full of tears. 


CURRITA 


59 


“ Why not? why not? ” repeated Currita. 

‘ 4 He told me to go away ! He gave me two pesetas ! ” 
cried the boy at last, with great affliction; and sobbing 
bitterly, hid his little face on his mother’s breast. 

What a ray of light would not this child’s lament have 
been to one of those holy and prudent mothers who study and 
direct their children’s slightest heart-beat. In it was re- 
vealed a noble punctiliousness already treading the path of 
pride, and a precocious propensity for vengeance, which, 
hidden and patient, awaits the hour to return slight for 
slight and injury for injury. But Currita only saw in all 
this a voluntary childish caprice, and between caresses and 
persuasions, cajoleries and threats, she tried to induce the 
child to have his picture taken. The latter apparently 
yielded, and Currita, holding the two children by the hand, 
went up to the splendid apartment in which the Marquis of 
Villamelon had his photographic studio. 

For idleness, that common affliction of the great, which 
instead of tears produces yawns, had awakened in the 
illustrious nobleman and unconquerable warrior a taste 
for photography, not finding in himself the necessary 
aptitude for the cultivation of other more elevated arts. 
To eat, drink, sleep, and to photograph every living in- 
sect which passed before the magnificent lens of his camera 
obscura, were the useful tasks which filled, and even over- 
flowed the life of this illustrious nobleman, whose ancestors 
had played such a part in the glorious enterprises of ancient 
Spain. 

Villamelon hastened, therefore, as usual, to comply with 
Currita’s slightest request, enveloped in his new Scotch 
morning-gown, which scarcely met at the waist. He had 
with him one of those magnificent large dogs of Kamschatka, 
of a yellowish white, who draw heavy sledges in their own 
country, and who had been Currita’s constant attendant for 
a long space of time, during which it had seemed to her 
exceedingly chic to take lengthy excursions on horseback. 
Villamelon began without loss of time to prepare the cam- 


60 


CURRITA 


era, his fingers stained with nitrate of silver. Currita mean- 
while disposed the artistic group in which the children were 
to be photographed. She arranged in the centre a large 
gothic seat, a very valuable archaeological and artistic 
treasure ; while both children, ensconced in it in close em- 
brace, were supposed to be examining together the premiums 
and the boy’s diploma. They presented a fac-simile of a 
very beautiful miniature of the fifteenth century. Extended 
at full length before them was Tock, the big yellow dog, his 
nose propped up on the red velvet cushion upon which the 
children’s feet rested. 

“Delicious!” exclaimed Currita, enchanted. “Look, 
Fernandito, it is like one of Meissonier’s pictures.” The 
premiums, however, were not forthcoming, and Paquito, 
shrugging his shoulders, pretended not to know where he 
had put them. 

4 ‘ Silly ! ” cried Lili, giving him a tap ; 4 4 of course you left 
them downstairs.” 

In less than two minutes she went and brought them, 
very much surprised that the vivid colors of the diploma 
should be discolored in several places as if by drops of water. 
The boy blushed and said nothing ; his tears of the preceding 
night were the cause of those stains. At this moment a ser- 
’vant announced to Currita that the Minister of the Interior 
desired urgently to speak with her. She turned brusquely 
towards her husband, dropping the diploma she held in her 
hand, while Villamelon, frightened, straightened himself up, 
the black cloth with which he had covered himself to focus 
the camera remaining on his head. From beneath it ap- 
peared his black whiskers, hooked nose, and eyes, terrified 
at this moment, fixed on Currita with the timorous expres- 
sion of the indolent scholar seized unawares. The wife 
advanced two steps towards her husband, the wrath which 
flashed from her light eyes giving the lie to the soft little 
voice and the deliberate tone with which she said : — 

“ Did not that Apis ox dine here yesterday?” 

44 He is a beast,” replied her husband; and to hide his 


CURRITA 


61 


embarrassment, he disappeared beneath the black cloth, 
beginning anew to focus the camera. 

44 Listen to me, Fernandito, when I am speaking to you,” 
added Currita, with an affected pause. 

Fernandito straightened himself up again, each time 
more embarrassed, without taking the black cloth off his 
head. 

44 Did the Apis ox say anything last night about the 
appointment ? ” 

44 Nothing,” stammered Villamelon. 

‘ 4 Nothing ? Are you sure ? ” 

Villamelon’s lips trembled, like those of a child who is 
about to tell a lie. But thinking better of it, no doubt, 
Fernandito remembered at length that the Minister of the 
Interior, the Apis ox, as they called him on account of his 
corpulency, had only told him that the rat pie would doubt- 
less be very indigestible. What foolishness ! On the other 
hand, he had declared to Juanito Velarde that things could 
not remain as they were, that no one could make fun of the 
government with impunity, and that he had decided to de- 
mand of Currita the acceptance of the appointment, sup- 
porting himself by a letter which, he said, — in a very 
unministerial expression, — he had to rub her nose with. 

“A letter? ” exclaimed Currita, really surprised; 44 but 
from whom?” 

“ From me! from me ! ” stammered Villamelon ; and know- 
ing that with this the thunderbolt had been discharged, he 
begged the earth to swallow him up. But the earth did not 
find it convenient to accommodate him. Currita advanced 
two more tiny little steps, and softening more and more her 
accent as she became more and more angry, she added : — 

44 Did you write to him, Fernandito? ” 

Villamelon bowed his head, annihilated. 

“ And did I not tell you, you must talk to him? That in 
all this business not a single written word must appear? 
You see, Fernandito — ” 

Villamelon retreated a step, as one who expects a box 


62 


CURRITA 


on the ear, and Currita advanced another, saying after a 
pause : — 

“And he said he was going to — to — present me that 
letter? ” 

“ So Velarde said.” 

‘ ‘ Are you sure ? ” 

“Quite sure.” 

Villamelon took another step backwards, and Currita 
another step forwards, repeating in a voice so soft it seemed 
almost like a caress : — 

“ You see? You see, Fernandito? ” 

And suddenly pulling the black cloth with an angry jerk, 
she enveloped the head of her illustrious husband in the sort 
of bag which it formed. Then slowly turning her back and 
without losing her composure she walked out of the studio. 
Lili burst out laughing to see her father struggling to get 
his head out of the black bag, and ran to Paquito to whisper 
to him a very great secret : — 

“ What a goose papa is ! ” 

Paquito was not listening to her, however. During all 
this scene he had been arranging in the gothic seat Tock, 
the big yellow dog, who allowed himself to be managed 
with that kind of gentle patience which dogs affect with 
children. He then suspended from his collar of repousse 
iron his prizes, the five medals, and putting the diploma 
on the dog’s head in the form of a cornucopia, cried out 
to Lili in a strange voice : — 

* 4 Go ! — Let papa photograph him ! — I have given all my 
premiums to Tock ! ” 

Meanwhile the butler was astonished to hear his mistress 
give, in passing, the strange order to light without loss of 
time the fire in the boudoir. It was the 25th of June, and 
the heat was already beginning to be suffocating. He obeyed, 
however, with that species of automatic impassibility peculiar 
to the servants of great houses; and when his Excellency 
the Minister of the Interior, Don Juan Antonio Martinez, 
Apis ox, in other words, entered the boudoir, a splendid fire 


CURRITA 


63 


was already burning in the grate, and near it Currita 
awaited him, extended in a lounging-chair, enveloped in a 
satin morning-wrapper, completely gloved, her feet covered 
with a very fine Scotch plaid, her head resting on a large 
cushion, with pink ribbons. Extending upon his entrance 
her slender little hand, she said in the weak voice of a con- 
firmed invalid : — 

“How are you, Martinez? You only would I have 
received to-day.” 

The Apis ox growled, a faithful expression of his aston- 
ishment and surprise, gave a sudden start, and, glued to the 
spot, began to perspire at the sight of the lighted grate. 

“But what does all this mean, Countess?” he exclaimed 
disconsolately. “You still have the headache? ” 

“ I am so unfortunate, so unfortunate,” answered Cur- 
rita. “ I am afraid I have chills and fever.” 

And the cunning one shivered all over her small, weak 
body, pointing out to the minister at the same time a little 
settee placed near the fire, and within reach of her hand. 
Martinez seated himself upon it, ready to be roasted on his 
soft seat, like Saint Lawrence on the gridiron. 

“I am so sorry, so sincerely sorry,” he said, and with 
really progressive sincerity added, recollecting the rustic 
pharmacopoeia of his native country : — 

“ Why don’t you put two little potato plasters on your 
temples? They give great relief.” 

“Potatoes!” exclaimed Currita, shivering with fright. 
“ For Heaven’s sake, Martinez! — I prefer the headache.” 

Martinez, understanding that he had revealed the village 
ear beneath the skin of the Court minister, came to business, 
leaving aside compassionate preambles and household 
prescriptions. 

“I am very sorry to have to come, then, to increase the 
headache, but the business is important and urgent.” 

The Countess settled her little red head on her soft 
cushion with pink ribbons, and fixed upon the minister her 
light eyes, which admirably expressed wonder. Martinez 


64 


CURRITA 


made fast his gold spectacles, twisted his disproportioned 
head, and menacing Currita with his big fat finger, like the 
dominie who gives a child an affectionate reprimand, said to 
her : — 

44 They are very much annoyed at the palace.” 

Currita shrugged her shoulders, making a graceful gri- 
mace, as if to say : — 

44 But why do you tell me this? ” 

“Yes, madame,” continued the minister, “his Majesty 
the King and her Majesty the Queen are very much put 
out.” 

Currita was seized with a great inclination to laugh at the 
pompous inflation with which the democratic minister pro- 
nounced these sonorous words: “palace,” “Majesty,” 
“ King,” “ Queen,” which seemed to fill his large, wide 
mouth, and asked with her accustomed suavity : — 

4 4 Who ? The Cisterna ! ” 

The minister swelled like a Yeraguas bull in whom a spear 
is implanted. 

“No! madame,” he exclaimed, offended in his dynastic 
dignity; “her Majesty, the Queen of Spain, Dona Maria 
Victoria.” 

44 Ah! ” said Currita. 44 And what have I to do with the 
sentiments of that lady ? ” 

44 What have you to do?” exclaimed the minister, suffo- 
cated by the heat of the fire and Currita’s exasperating 
calm. 44 And does it seem nothing to you to solicit the 
position of first lady-in-waiting in order to reject it after- 
wards, when it has been conceded? Does one play like that 
with a Queen who is a model of virtue? You must know, 
then, that the Government has unanimously decided to 
compel your acceptance.” 

And the minister, completely upset, perspiring in big 
drops, red as a beet, and with both fists resting on his 
respective knees, fixed upon Currita his squint eyes, as if he 
would try to swallow her up in a single mouthful. The 
growls of the Apis ox, however, did not intimidate her. 


CURRITA 


65 


She raised herself a little, and, very much astonished and 
offended, with her light eyes fixed, as always, on space, 
began to say in her soft and somewhat aggrieved little 
voice : — 

“ But, Martinez, for Heaven’s sake, don’t excite yourself 
in that manner. You look so ugly. There must be some 
mistake in all this, some quid pro quo , for a man of your in- 
tellect to talk such nonsense. I, first lady-in-waiting to 
the Cister — I mean to say, to Dona Victoria. Where did 
you hear that? ” 

“ From you yourself, my lady Countess, from you your- 
self,” cried the minister. u Will you dare to deny, before 
the minister of Ultramar, that you have solicited the posi- 
tion of first lady-in-waiting, provided they give to Velarde 
the secretaryship to the King, and to yourself six thousand 
dollars salary?” 

“ Well, I should think I would deny it,” answered Currita, 
with all her pertness. 

“ Yes? Well, we ’ll see if your husband will deny it also, 
when all the papers of Madrid publish this letter.” 

And the Apis ox took out of his pocket a letter, which he 
unfolded before Currita’s eyes, as if he would like to accom- 
plish his bestial menace of rubbing her nose with it. The 
Countess was about to snatch the paper hastily, but the 
minister held it back, saying brutally : — 

“Bah! this does not leave me for one instant; but this 
very minute you shall hear it from beginning to end.” 

And putting his spectacles on his nose, for he was near- 
sighted, he began to read the letter. In it the Marquis of 
Villamelon, in union with his wife, asked for the latter, 
through the Minister of Foreign Affairs, the position of first 
lady-in-waiting to the Queen, under the two conditions be- 
fore mentioned by Martinez, — the private secretaryship to 
Don Amadeo for Juanito Velarde, and the six thousand dol- 
lars salary for the lady herself. The proof could not be 
more conclusive, and Currita could well understand all her 
dear husband’s imprudence in letting such a pledge escape 

5 


66 


CURRITA 


him. She was not much affected, however. While the 
minister was reading, she had been raising herself more and 
more, making moues of fright and gestures of protest, and 
suddenly, with the agility of a chasing cat, who springs upon 
the incautious mouse, she snatched from the minister’s 
hands the dangerous letter and threw it into the fire. The 
paper curled up a moment in the flames, the next instant 
being converted into ashes. 

The minister, astonished, fell back brusquely in his seat 
with an oath ; but Currita, without being offended on that 
account, or frightened either, sank back again on her 
pillows, as if it was nothing, saying with her frank little 
laugh : — 

“ Come, come, Martinez ! You must put two little potato 
plasters on. They are very refreshing ! ” 


CHAPTER VI 

Never had Villamelon’s pacific porter experienced such a 
tremendous fright as that which the Governor of Madrid 
had in store for him on that memorable day following Mar- 
tinez’ visit to Currita the 26th of June. It was ten o’clock 
in the morning, and Baltasar, not having as yet put on his 
heavy blue livery covered with heraldic scutcheons, and wide 
fringes at the wrists and collar, was carefully dusting the 
proud Florentine coffers, enormous antique seats, and the 
armor of brilliant steel which adorned the vestibule. After- 
wards he began to comb the long wool of Bruin, his mute 
companion the Norwegian bear, and was thus employed 
when a troop of suspicious-looking people, with an aspect 
anything but tranquillizing, suddenly invaded the house. 
Baltasar, frightened, quickly shut the large glass door ; but, 
from the repeated blows showered upon it by those who were 
outside, two of the magnificent panes of emerald glass which 
displayed in the middle Villamelon’s monogram and crest 


CURRITA 


67 


fell shattered into pieces. Baltasar, terrified, fled up the 
stairs with his coarse apron tucked up, trampling upon the 
diminutive Don Joselito, who was peacefully rubbing with a 
lemon peel the metallic rods which kept in place the soft 
carpet on the staircase. The dwarf fled also, shrieking at 
the top of his voice, and very soon the entire corps of ser- 
vants in the palace was running terrified in all directions, 
opening and shutting doors, and spreading the alarm through- 
out the whole building. 

Meanwhile the invaders reached an antechamber which 
was completely deserted, and he who appeared to be in com- 
mand began to knock on the floor with his tasselled stick, 
demanding the Countess of Albornoz in the name of the law. 
This person was the chief of police, and came in the name 
of the Governor to inspect the palace of the Countess, and 
to possess himself of all her papers. Accompanying him 
were half a dozen municipal guards, an alcalde of the neigh- 
borhood, and about ten or twelve men of villanous coun- 
tenances, provided with large cudgels, who seemed by their 
aspect to belong to the, at that time, famous partida de la 
porra . 1 They guarded all the doors, leaving the entrance 
free to all, while exit was prohibited. 

Meanwhile Villamelon was sleeping the sleep of the just. 
Currita, on the other hand, up very early, contrary to her 
usual custom, as if she was expecting something, imme- 
diately noticed the tumult. She turned very pale, and an 
impish smile flitted for a moment across her thin lips. Kate, 
the English maid, trembling like a leaf, hastened to tell her 
of what had occurred. The lady then seemed to be very 
much frightened, as if she had only just heard the news, and 
wished in all haste to advise the Marquis of Butron of what 
was going on. The doors were, however, already guarded 
and exit forbidden. She, however, in spite of all, ordered 
one of the kitchen scullions to scale the garden wall, charged 
to deliver her message to the diplomat. 

Villamelon’ s awakening was horrible. The image of terror 
1 Band of ruffians. — Tr. 


68 


CURRITA 


had remained of old engraven upon his brain, under the form 
of the savage natives of Africa, and these, with their rifles, 
were the first phantoms which presented themselves to his 
imagination in this moment of confusion of ideas which fol- 
lows the awakening of every man. His Excellency Mar- 
tinez, the colossal Apis ox, next stood out among them, 
presenting him with one hand his imprudent letter, and 
seizing his throat with the other, to conduct him without 
mercy to the Saladero. Villamelon was ready to die of fright, 
for to his letter, and to his letter alone, as Currita had well 
prophesied the day before, could he attribute this sudden 
invasion of the police. Presently, very quickly indeed, he 
resolved what to do. He tucked himself up again in bed 
and decided that the most prudent thing would be to feign 
death then and there. Was it not Currita who had involved 
him in these difficulties ? Well, let her get out of them the 
best way she could! In vain the Countess, trembling with 
wrath, urged him to get up and go out to receive the crowd 
of vagrants. Villamelon answered that he had a cold, and 
was in a sweat, and would certainly have a spasm if he went 
into a draught. 

Time pressed, and the intrepid Currita saw herself at Iasi 
obliged to go out in person to meet the invaders. The widow 
of Padilla could not have done so with more arrogance upon 
presenting herself to the troops of Carlos V., in the Alcazar 
of Toledo. With haughty mien she asked the chief of police 
for the Grovernor’s mandate legalized by the judge, the only 
one, according to the laws in force, which could authorize 
this intrusion. The functionary presented it to her respect- 
fully, and she tore it in two after reading it. She then made 
a valiant protest, in which she put forth her loyal Alfonsist 
opinions, and sending an old man employed in the ac- 
countant’s office of the palace, to show these people the way 
to her rooms, and to be present at the registration, she re- 
tired with dignity to the billiard-room, followed by her maids, 
like a queen by her ladies. There she made them bring to 
her the two children, Lili and Paquito, and embracing them 


CURRITA 


69 


tenderly, and seating them on her lap, seemed to parody the 
sad group of Queen Marie Antoinette flying for refuge with 
her children to a corner of the Tuileries, invaded by the 
populace. Kate cried disconsolately; Miss Buteffull had 
put on her hat and gloves, as if she expected the order to 
march. 

Currita did not make these sentimentally artistic arrange- 
ments for nothing. The news had flown in a twinkling 
throughout the political and aristocratic circles of the Court, 
extending afterwards through cafes and casinos, stores and 
plazas. People began to crowd with stupid curiosity about 
the doors of the palace, and very soon a long line of car- 
riages occupied the entire street, suspending for a moment 
their measured march, doors opening and shutting with 
much clamor, while aristocratic young bloods, haughty 
noblemen, and elegant ladies descended from them. The 
latter came en deshabille , glancing in all directions half 
frightened and half curious, and embraced Currita amidst 
exclamations of surprise, indignation, enthusiasm, and pity. 
This is what the sly Countess expected ; and with her in- 
genu smile pressed the hands of some in silence, and to 
others related the account of the invasion, raising her eyes 
to heaven with the air of a resigned victim, who, clinging to 
her children, sacrifices herself on the altars of the proscribed 
dynasty. What would become of them ? Her poor children ! 
And Fernandito so affected, so nervous, prostrated in bed, 
and his health needing serious care ! Perhaps exile awaited 
them, perhaps prison, perhaps — Ah ! the ladies shuddered 
with fury and fright, all talking at once, comforting the 
victim with their advice, and all cursing themselves inwardly 
because Currita, and not themselves, had had the luck to 
place herself under the suspicion of the police, and had at- 
tained the height of celebrity with a single bound. 

There also arrived several reporters in quest of news, 
pencil in hand, and their pride in their pockets. They were 
very well received, Currita herself deigning to give them 
particulars of the event. Admirable was Pedro Lopez, the 


70 


CURRITA 


chronicler of elegant salons, who attended balls and dinners 
with the pockets of his dress coat lined with oil-cloth, to be 
able to take away sweets and confections without difficulty. 
Currita extended to him her hand, moved at the sight of 
this faithful friend, who so many times had described the 
beauties of her costumes ; he pressed it in silence, repeating 
three times : — 

‘ ‘ Ominous ! — ominous ! — ominous ! ” 

And retiring to some distance he began to scribble with 
febrile ardor in his portfolio. All the ladies and many of 
the gentlemen flocked around him to be seen, and to beg an 
honorable mention in this article, which would the following 
day be the theme par excellence of the Court. Currita’s 
apotheosis would undoubtedly cause a great sensation, and 
they ought to figure in it, if only in the chorus. 

Leopoldina Pastor arrived out of breath, with an enormous 
prayer-book in her hand. She had just come from mass, 
for she was making a novena to San Pascual to entreat of 
heaven to send a stroke of fulminant apoplexy to Don Sa- 
lustiano de Olozaga. She was very much irritated that 
Currita had not thrown the chief of police out of the window. 
She swore that this good-for-nothing should not escape 
without hearing from her lips four well pronounced words, 
and making a great fuss and gesticulating, and sticking her 
tongue out at the agents of police whom she met on her way, 
finally stopped at the dining-room, for it was already twelve 
o’clock. She had had nothing to eat, was very hungry, and 
it would be impossible to leave the house until the registra- 
tion was finished. Many men and women followed her, 
ready to pounce upon Villamelon’s provisions like a cloud of 
locusts. The astonishment of all was great to find the dying 
Marquis standing in a corner of the dining-room, leaning 
over an oak platter, swallowing eagerly and in all haste an 
immense mug of delicious chocolate, with a colossal pyramid 
of golden toast, and glancing in all directions terrified. The 
first fright having left him, and not hearing now any unusual 
noise in the house other than the incessant going and coming 


CURRITA 


71 


of the people who had come in from the street, Villamelon 
felt sensibly the most terrible sting that could possibly attack 
him, the sting of hunger! In vain he called for them to 
bring him as usual — 

“ A wide waiter with Chinese pitcher 
Brimming over with boiling chocolate.” 

The servants scattered throughout the house did not respond 
to his call, and Villamelon, preferring the risk of any other 
death to the death of starvation, decided at last to get up, 
and to slip along passages and corridors to the kitchen in 
search of his daily bread. Once in possession of it he fled 
to the nearest corner, and there began to devour it. 

The arrival of the importunate guests made him clear the 
field, fleeing toward the interior, with the chocolate in one 
hand, and the toast in the other. But with roars of laughter 
the aristocratic and hungry crowd stopped him, and Leo- 
poldina Pastor, grasping him by the short coat-tails of his 
morning-gowu, cried out convulsed with laughter: — 

u Where are you going, Fernandito? don’t leave, man! 
To be able to grieve, one must eat of course, and we have 
come to help you.” 

And from the maitre d’hdtel to Don Joselito they set to 
work, barely able to supply the emotional throng with an 
improvised luncheon, and substantial picnic. 


CHAPTER VII 

The Marquis of Butron was one of those mediocrities who, 
in times scarce of notabilities, pass for remarkable men, 
owing their greatness to the small proportions alone of the 
men and affairs of their epoch. It has been said, however, 
that no man is great in the eyes of his valet, and the renowned 
Robinson was not exempt from this general law of illustrious 
celebrities. One of his principal weaknesses, therefore, con- 


72 


CURRITA 


4 

sisted in carefully dyeing his beard, already completely white, 
in order to make it match his yet abundant crop of hair, 
which he had preserved as black as the wings of a crow. 
The worthy diplomat was engaged on the morning of the 
26th of June in this most important task, when Currita’s 
message was suddenly delivered to him. The hairy gentle- 
man completely lost his head, and fearing everything from 
the Countess’s duplicity, of which he was fully aware, he 
hastily ordered a cab and drove to the palace of this stray 
sheep, whom it was so essential for him to keep in the 
Alfonsist fold, completely forgetting that his undyed beard 
would reveal his secret, until then well guarded, to the most 
expert tongues to be found in the court for tearing people to 
pieces. The policemen who guarded the door allowed him 
to pass, according to the countersign, regarding him with 
that species of jealous respect which the leaders of one party 
always inspire in the small fry of the opposite side. 

The announcement of his arrival caused a profound sensa- 
tion among his hosts of friends, men and women, who 
thronged the palace, and all, even those in the dining-room, 
hastened forward to meet him. His presence there gave to 
the event an importance and a color, which Currita had well 
calculated in sending for him in such haste. The great 
Robinson extended both arms upon seeing her, exclaiming, 
“ My daughter!” and the lady fell into them with filial 
abandon, sobbing loudly and pointing to her children, who 
clung frightened to Miss Buteffull’s skirt; the latter as 
inflexible and impassible as ever. 

The ladies began to sympathize in a general chorus, but 
Gorito Sardona, happening to notice the diplomat’s undyed 
beard, hurried to communicate the discovery to Carmen 
Tagle. She burst out laughing, and told it to her neighbor, 
who passed it on to the person next to her, and very soon 
a number of sly little giggles made a complete fracas of the 
pathetic part of the spectacle. Butron, however, was ob- 
livious to all this, and with the majestic mien which cir- 
cumstances required, gently led Currita into an adjoining 


CURRITA 


73 


room. He was perspiring profusely, so fearful was he, lest 
some new whim of the illustrious Countess should upset his 
diplomatic manoeuvres. Terrified, glancing in every direc- 
tion, as if he feared to encounter the guards who invaded 
the palace, he said to her in a low voice: — 

‘ ‘ What is the meaning of all this ? Speak, my daughter ! ” 

Currita threw herself on a sofa, covering her face with 
her handkerchief. 

“ I am lost!” she said. 

Butron opened his mouth, as if about to swallow a whole 
cheese. 

“Fernandito is an imbecile!” continued Currita, very 
much affected. 

Butron nodded his head in signal of profound assent. 

“ Martinez has deceived him ! And Fernandito has com- 
promised me atrociously. It is horrible, Butron, horrible.” 

“ Speak low ! ” exclaimed the diplomat, startled. “ Calm 
yourself, my daughter, calm yourself ; you can depend upon 
me for everything. Do you hear? for everything.” 

And with his two hairy hands Robinson squeezed with 
paternal effusion the hand of Currita. 

“ I know it, Butron, I know it, and that is why I sent 
for you at once,” she said more calmly. “ But it is shame- 
ful, shameful ! Just imagine, if you can, that all they 
have said about my appointment as first lady-in-waiting is 
true ! ” 

“True!” exclaimed Butron, as if the cheese had stuck 
in his throat. 

“ Fernandito wrote to the minister soliciting for me the 
appointment without saying a word to me, Butron ! — without 
consulting me ! Oh ! it is too much, too much ! Ah ! what 
a husband ! I assure you, if it were not for my children I 
would bring on a divorce.” 

Here Currita shed a few tears on the altars of honored 
Hymen, whose torch ran the risk of being extinguished, and 
continued in a very low voice : — 

“ So, as I knew nothing, I said day before yesterday in 


74 


CUERITA 


Beatrice’s house what I thought, of course, was the truth : 
that the minister came to offer me the position, and that I 
had indignantly declined to accept it, regarding it as one of 
the absurdities of that mob. Imagine, then, my surprise 
when yesterday that beast Martinez, so ordinary and gross, 
entered my house very much offended by my refusal, shout- 
ing like one possessed by the devil that no one could play 
with the Government like that, and threatening me with a 
letter of Fernandito’s, which he said he was going to rub 
my nose with — Butron, my nose ! ” And here tears again 
drowned Currita’s voice ; after a pause she continued be- 
tween sobs: — 

“What an outrage, Butron, what a shame! I thought 
I should die of grief ! To the father of my children I owe 
this injury. Well do I know, I have said to him a thou- 
sand times, 4 Your condescension to that rabble, Fernandito, 
will ruin us.’” 

44 Did you see the letter? ” exclaimed Butron, stupefied. 

4 4 1 saw it, Butron ; I read it ! How shameful ! I thought 
I should die ! The Apis ox said the minister would publish 
it in the papers if I did not accept the position. I cried, I 
entreated, beseeching him in the name of my honor, in the 
name of my children ! All in vain. Either I must accept 
the position or the letter must be published. Then I offered 
money, and my man began to soften. He demanded of me 
five thousand duros, then three thousand, — haggling, Butron, 
haggling like a Jew! At last the bargain was closed at 
three thousand, and last night at one o’clock he came to 
deliver me the letter and receive the payment. As I did 
not have sufficient money by me, and could not ask it of 
Fernandito, I was obliged to pawn a number of jewels.” 

Butron listened astonished, swallowing one by one all 
this string of lies, dexterously intermixed with some few 
truths. He crossed his hands in a tragic attitude, and 
exclaimed with the air of a scandalized Cato : — 

44 This is nauseating ! ” 

44 But that is not all, Butron, not all. It is scandalous ! ” 


CURRITA 


75 


continued Currita, very much excited. “ At one o’clock 
last night the Apis ox delivered me the letter. At ten 
o’clock this morning the officials of police suddenly arrived 
to register my papers. A round business which the great 
scoundrel seeks, — to get the letter again, and keep my 
money ! ” 

“But have they got it?” exclaimed Butron in conster- 
nation. 

“ Bah ! I would have sacrificed my life first. I had time to 
tear it up and throw the pieces down the drain of the bath.” 

“Berrerr! ” said Butron, as if he had nausea; and with 
his hands crossed behind his back, in an attitude of great 
perplexity, and the formidable furrow of his eyebrows knit, 
a sign in him of grave preoccupation, he began to measure 
the room with long strides. Currita watched him pacing 
up and down, out of the corner of her eye, every now and 
then sighing nervously. 

It was apparent to Butron that the lady was a trickster ; 
but what she said was all perfectly consistent and com- 
pletely explained the strange visit of the police. For what 
other reason would they search the house? On the other 
hand the unexpected event secured to the party the alliance 
of this woman who reigned over elegant Madrid, with the 
powerful empire of fashion, and this was sufficient for the 
theories of the diplomat. He stopped, therefore, suddenly 
before her and said to her solemnly : — 

“ It is necessary to make an imposing display, which will 
arouse the spirit of the people, and serve as a protest against 
this outrage.” 

Currita shrugged her shoulders, hiding beneath an affected 
perplexity the ray of vain joy which lit up her countenance. 

“ But, Butron, for Heaven’s sake ! ” she said, u as far as 
I am concerned, I have no objection, but you must see that 
the one who loses here is Fernandito.” 

“ Look, Curra ! Fernandito does n’t lose anything, for he 
has nothing to lose. Your husband is an imbecile, and 
everybody knows it.” 


76 


CURRITA 


“It is true,” said Currita, with heroic conformity. 

“ Moreover, I will guarantee you a secret. The business 
is serious, and we may profit greatly by it.” 

U I can well understand that; and so I am not opposed. 
After all, the first thing one has to consider is the good of 
the cause. I sacrifice everything to it.” And Currita began 
to weep again, concealing under cover of her fresh tears this 
very innocent plea : — 

“ The only thing I ask is, that you yourself will write to 
the Queen the truth of what is going on. I am so afraid 
of entanglements, and of the slanders of this Madrid! 
That Izabel Mazacan has such a tongue. She is so envious 
of me ! ” 

Butron stood directly in front of her, and said, striking 
his breast : — 

“ Confide in me, Curra ; I will be responsible ! ” 

At this moment there was a knock at the door; the 
registration was already finished, and the chief of police 
begged the Countess’s permission to present his excuses. 

“Ah! no, no!” exclaimed Currita. “Tell him I can 
very well dispense with them.” 

“ And add also,” said Butron with all the Olympic 
majesty which his mission there demanded, “that the 
Countess of Albornoz reserves to herself the right to pro- 
test, in all its bearings against such an outrage ; and say 
also that the whole of the Spanish aristocracy, and all 
sensible and honorable people are at her side to protect her, 
and defend the sacred cause which she at this moment 
represents.” 

Butron said this in an arrogant tone, emphasizing very 
much the word “ cause.” He afterwards swept the throng 
with a lingering glance, as if to say: “Do you under- 
stand?” and walked through the crowd, scattering empty 
words, which curiosity and stupidity filled up with great 
meaning. 

“The business is serious,” he said, “and Currita is 
admirable ! A heroine indeed, a Mariana Pineda ! ” 


CURRITA 


77 


The old man employed in the accountant’s office, Don 
Pablo Solera, who had been present at the registration, 
now came in, with his ears very red, and a large document 
in his hand which he handed to the Countess. Everybody 
surrounded him, full of curiosity, asking him a thousand 
questions, which the old employee hastened to answer, half 
stupefied to see himself before such an illustrious assembly. 
The registration had been scrupulous to a degree, and had 
lasted two whole hours. The chief of police had read every 
letter which fell into his hands, without sparing investigation, 
had registered all the papers, gone through all the books, 
and put aside everything in which he thought he detected 
elements of conspiracy, in order to subject them to the 
inspection of the Governor of the province. The prudent 
old man had then exacted of him a receipt signed by the 
chief of police himself, in which he agreed to return all the 
papers he took away ; and this was the document which Don 
Pablo presented to the Countess. 

u Is there anything important?” asked Butron, in a low 
voice, reading the list with Currita. 

“Psch! nothing,” answered the latter. But her eyes 
fixed themselves with amazement on this part of the long 
inventory: “A package of twenty-five letters, tied with 
pink ribbon.” 

Butron took the floor again. The danger was over, but 
it was most important that they should derive all the profit 
possible out of this victory : it was absolutely necessarjr to 
make a big outcry, a big protest, and to propagate the 
scandal in every direction, in order to awaken indignation 
and excite the feelings of the people against the Govern- 
ment and the intrusive dynasty. In the first place, all the 
ladies must assemble that afternoon at the Castellana, with 
graceful Spanish mantillas, and classical shell combs, which 
was already the signal agreed upon, as a valiant protest; 
and the following night he, Butron himself, would give a 
grand ball in Currita’s honor, of a purely political character, 
to which all those present might consider themselves invited. 


78 


CURRITA 


The ladies must wear in their hair the fleur-de-lis, emblem 
of their hopes, and the gentlemen a blue and white ribbon 
in the lappels of their coats, the appropriate and suitable 
colors of the expelled Bourbons. 

The enthusiasm was then indescribable; the ladies sur- 
rounded the group which Currita and Butron had formed, 
pushing each other, all chatting at once, and waving their 
colossal fans, called by the hardly elegant name of peri- 
cones, in vogue that summer. 

“Good! Bravo!” cried Gorito Sardona. “The chorus 
of the poniards ! Butron, it is your turn to bless them! ” 

And he began to sing the — 

“ Giusta h la guerra, e in core 
Mi parla un santo ardore,” 

of Meyerbeer in the Huguenots. 

This caused general laughter among the ladies, and one 
after another they began to take their leave, nervous and 
enthusiastic, mutually confessing that it was most enter- 
taining to conspire, dancing, and displaying fleur-de-lis, at 
the Castellana, and that it was easier than they imagined to 
overthrow a throne with the wave of a fan. 

Meanwhile Villamelon, slipping along behind curtains, 
doors, and tapestries, saw the illustrious throng file out, 
without daring to present himself before them. What most 
annoyed him was that downstairs they had broken two 
panes of glass in his screen door. Upon seeing herself 
alone, Currita questioned the old employee, showing him 
the list : — 

“ Tell me, Don Pablo, from whom were those twenty- 
five letters ? ” 

The old man shrugged his shoulders. 

“ I don’t know,” he replied. “ The chief of police read 
three or four and put them away with a little laugh that set 
me thinking.” 

“ But where were they? ” 


CURRITA 


79 


“In the antique little chest which is in your ladyship’s 
cabinet, in a little secret drawer.” 

“In the secretaire of the boudoir?” said Currita, still 
more surprised. “ Why, it was empty ! Let us see ; come 
with me.” 

There was, in fact, in a corner of the boudoir, a rare little 
cabinet, a masterpiece of Italian workmanship of the six- 
teenth century, of carved ebony with rich incrustations of 
tortoise-shell, silver, jasper, and bronze. Currita raised 
the large top-lid, whose golden hinges and locks revealed 
through their artistic open-work a background of red velvet, 
and showed the interior of this exquisite piece of furniture, 
composed of very beautiful little compartments, and of gal- 
leries in miniature, in which were interlaced an infinite 
number of little drawers, hiding one from another by a 
multitude of secret mechanisms. 

‘ ‘ But where were those letters ? ” asked Currita, impa- 
tiently opening one by one the pretty little drawers. 

“Here below,” answered Don Pablo; and pressing a 
bronze spring, another secret little drawer sprang out, 
letting escape, upon opening, a soft odor of dead violets. 

Currita put her hand inside, and found in the bottom a 
faded bunch of those sweet flowers. She looked at it for 
some time with a certain air of perplexity, as one who tries 
to remember something, and exclaimed at last, enlightened : 
“Ah!” Suddenly, becoming very serious, and with the 
irritated face of one who fears a heavy catastrophe, she 
murmured very much annoyed: — 

“ Something must be done ! This would be delicious ! ” 


80 


CURRITA 


CHAPTER VIII 

A pretty kettle of fish for the Governor at two o’clock that 
same afternoon, June 26th. The news of the visit of 
police to Yillamelon’s palace had reached the upper spheres 
of the Government, causing surprise and annoyance. They 
were ignorant of the cause of this violent measure taken by 
the Governor, and were still determined to urge upon the 
Countess of Albornoz the position of first lady-in-waiting, 
in spite of the comico-dramatic scene which had taken place 
between herself and his Excellency Martinez the day before. 
Because, as the reader may have already divined, notwith- 
standing the plots of the cunning lady, the compromises of 
the latter with the Government were most real and positive, 
as the Countess of Mazacan had declared two days before at 
the Duchess of Bara’s house. Currita, profoundly resenting 
what she believed to be a slight on the part of the abdicated 
Queen, had decided then and there to go over, bag and bag- 
gage, to the enemy’s side, satisfying in this way her feminine 
desire of vengeance, and realizing at the same time her con- 
stant desire to make everybody talk, and to take the lead 
in everything. The new monarch was young and handsome, 
and once having him within reach, in her post as lady-in- 
waiting, it seemed easy to her to amalgamate in a short 
time, in herself, two historical personages for w r hom she had 
a great admiration, Mademoiselle de la Valliere and the 
Princess of the Ursines. 

It cost her something, however, to induce Villamelon to 
second her plans, for the latter, adhering obstinately to 
what he called his honor, desired to live and die faithful 
to the fallen dynasty. Currita finally succeeded in conquer- 
ing him, and, cautious as ever, without taking any responsi- 
bility upon herself, charged him to negotiate with Don Juan 
Antonio Martinez and the minister of Ultramar, both per- 
sonages whom she had with traitorous foresight succeeded 


CURRITA 


81 


in attracting some time before to her house, not caring a 
straw for the aristocratic criticisms of her illustrious friends. 
The conditions imposed by the Countess were a considerable 
increase of salary for herself, and the private secretaryship 
to Don Amadeo for Juanito Velarde, the adored friend who 
was at that time her confidant. 

The commission was easy, considering the anxiety which 
existed in the Court and in the Government to fill that 
slighted position with a grandee of Spain. Villamelon, how- 
ever, committed a faux pas against Currita’s implicit instruc- 
tions. The latter had charged him to let a written word 
under no circumstances appear in the management of the 
business ; and the stupid fellow, in order not to miss an ap- 
pointment which he had with a certain questionable widow 
at the very time in which he also had an engagement with 
the minister, let the unfortunate letter addressed to the 
latter escape him. This, later on, was the cause of serious 
complications. Meanwhile, Queen Isabella’s letter destroyed 
the whole affair, and with her unrivalled impudence Currita 
denied what she had done, leaving the Court and the Gov- 
ernment in the lurch and her husband on the horns of a 
dilemma. Not satisfied with this, and in order to hush 
up the dangerous rumors circulating about the event, and 
aroused by Izabel Mazacan, she conceived the idea of 
denouncing herself to the Governor, writing him an anony- 
mous letter in which, with palpable proofs, she declared that 
the Countess of Albornoz and the Marquis of Butron were 
contriving a vast plot, very important papers for the Alfon- 
sist cause being in the former’s possession. The unwary 
Governor fell into the snare, and we have already seen the 
admirable opportunity which seconded the daring plans of 
this illustrious impostor, whose paltry intrigues kept the 
whole Court in commotion. The visit of the police guaran- 
teed forever the fame of her Alfonsist loyalty, giving her 
an importance in the party which completely put her beyond 
reach of the pretensions of the Amadist Court. His Excel- 
lency Senor Don Juan Antonio Martinez thus understood 

6 


82 


CURRITA 


it, and in a great rage went to demand an account of the 
Governor of his stupidity. The latter was alarmed, but 
taking good care to refrain from confessing that only from 
an anonymous letter had he obtained the proofs of Currita’s 
conspiracy, declared pompously the certain existence of a 
vast Alfonsist conspiracy, that the Marquis of Butron di- 
rected it, and that the Countess of Albornoz was a dis- 
turbing element from head to foot. 

“I know that only too well!” exclaimed the Apis ox, 
gasping from his wound. And he related to the Governor, 
with all its details, the history of the appointment of first 
lady-in-waiting and the scene of the letter thrown into the 
fire, which had already made all his Cabinet companions 
nearly die with laughter in his very face. The Governor bit 
his lips, beginning to suspect he had made a mess of it, 
and the pas trop de zUe of Talleyrand flashed into his 
mind like a reproach. His anger and his fears, however, 
were checked for a moment by the entrance of the chief 
of police, who came to deliver to him the papers found in 
Currita’s possession. 

The Governor pounced upon them with all the ardor of 
his wounded amour propre, and as bad luck would have 
it, the first thing that unrolled itself before his eyes was a 
small sheet of note paper, with the Countess of Albornoz’s 
crest, and written on it, in different styles of hand-writ- 
ing this strange inscription: “ What a handsome animal is 
man ! ” The Governor examined the little paper attentively, 
thinking he discerned some hidden key, or some simple and 
mysterious sign between these different hand-writings, one 
chubby and constrained, another large and fine, and the 
last very diminutive, whose little interlaced flies’ feet pro- 
longed themselves in the form of a chain-stitch. These 
awakened in his mind a vivid recollection; he hurriedly 
sought the anonymous letter which contained the denuncia- 
tion, compared the writings of both, and the veil was torn 
completely from his eyes. They were identical! It was 
proven that her Excellency the Countess of Albornoz was 


CURRITA 


83 


a thorough intrigante , and his Excellency the Governor of 
Madrid a first-class idiot. His fury then knew no bounds, 
and it was increased by the taciturn Martinez, who, with his 
cheeks puffed out and his mouth stretched with laughter, was 
bursting to have his say, and finally had it by remarking 
sarcastically : — 

‘ 4 Conspiracy miscarried ! Spain can now sleep tran- 
quilly.” 

His Excellency experienced a certain malignant delight 
in not being the only victim of the plots of this tremendous 
rogue, who was playing practical jokes on the Epaminondas 
and Aristides of honorable Spain. 

The Governor began to swear like any low-born ruffian, 
and searching and researching the papers, came across the 
package of twenty-five letters. His joy was now intense, 
for already his vengeance was assured. 

The night before, Currita had made a scrupulous exami- 
nation of her papers, extracting from them everything that 
might compromise her, and putting well in sight all that 
would favor her plans. Needless to say, Queen Isabella’s 
letter was in a very conspicuous place, so that the chief of 
police could see it at once. Two unpardonable oversights 
occurred, however. In her portfolio was mislaid the little 
sheet of paper upon which she had made her caligraphic 
experiments, and she completely forgot that, in one of the 
little secret drawers of the antique secretaire of the boudoir, 
had existed for more than three years a package of letters 
from a certain Andalusian artillery captain, of grand family, 
most haughty figure, and very little shame, who had preceded 
Juanito Velarde in the confidential post which the latter now 
occupied in her house. 

The Governor, triumphant, asked Martinez if he did not 
think the letters should be published in the newspapers. 

“Don’t be foolish, man,” replied the minister. “ Do you 
imagine there is any one in Madrid, who does not know, or 
surmise, that those letters exist or have existed? ” 

“ But in that case, what benefit do we derive from them? ” 


84 


CURRITA 


44 A very perceptible one. Do you not have to return 
them to the Countess ? ” 

44 Certainly, inasmuch as the chief of police gave a receipt 
for them.” 

44 Well, then, instead of sending them to the lady, send 
them to her husband. It is the only way to practise in this 
affair the work of mercy, of enlightening the ignorant.” 

4 4 Magnificent ! ” exclaimed the Governor, astonished at 
the Machiavellian policy of his Excellency. 

And without loss of time he began to write a polite note 
to the Marquis of Villamelon, begging his pardon a thousand 
times for the mauvais quart d’heure to which he had sub- 
jected him that morning, informing him of the restitution of 
the captured papers, and courteously requesting him to read 
them over one by one, particularly the twenty-five letters of 
the package, if only to see if by chance any of them had 
been mislaid. At this moment a porter delivered to the 
Governor a small perfumed note, which was to all appear- 
ances from some coquettish lady, but proved to be from the 
handsome Minister Garcia Gomez, the elegant of the day 
and dandy of this eminent progressive cabinet. Informed 
by his friend Izabel Mazacan of the order of the day given 
by the Marquis of Butron in Currita’s house, he hastened to 
acquaint the first authority of the province of the display of 
mantillas and small combs which the ladies of the aristoc- 
racy were preparing for that afternoon at the Fuente Cas- 
tellano. The Governor began to fume again, threatening, 
between energetic interjections, to do with mantillas and 
small combs what Esquilache did with capes and hats. 

44 Don’t be foolish, man ! ” repeated the minister, with his 
rustic laugh. 44 This has an easy remedy.” 

44 What?” 

44 Call Claude Molinos.” 

Claude Molinos was a consummate vagrant and cheap 
politician, who at that time cut quite a figure, and was, accord- 
ing to the public voice, the right hand of the Government in 
all its unlawful doings, and the recruiter and commander-in- 


CURRITA 


85 


chief of the Partida de la Porra. As he entered the room 
both personages received him as an equal and with great 
consideration, and after a short conference, he hurriedly 
took his leave. Martinez also left at the same time, his big 
head bowed, and his hands and cane behind his back, in a 
nonchalant attitude, leaving the Governor thoroughly ap- 
peased and satisfied, rubbing the not altogether clean nails 
of his plump little hands against each other. 

At half-past six that same afternoon, not a single carriage 
was to be seen in the Retiro, or in the Park ; hundreds of 
them, on the contrary, were crossing at full trot the Paseo de 
Recoletas, already crowded with people, and were pursuing 
their way in a confused bustle towards the Fuente Caste- 
llano. Never had Vienna en route to the Prater, Berlin to 
the Linden, or Paris to the Bois, presented a spectacle as 
original and picturesque as that which at sunset was pre- 
sented by this immense avalanche of luxurious equipages, 
the majority of them open, and filled with women of all types 
and ages, all wearing gay toilets with black or white man- 
tillas and little shell-combs, while flowers were everywhere ; 
in their hair, on their breasts, and in their hands, on the 
seats and in the windows of the carriages, on the blinders of 
the horses, and on the liveries of the coachmen. All min- 
gled together without hurrying, and in a most orderly march, 
carriages, . horses, equestrians, harnesses, costumes, and liv- 
eries, coachman with their cockades en evidence , and footmen 
with their arms crossed, the jingling of bridles, and cracking 
of whips, fragrance of spring and of toilet perfumes, odor 
of earth recently watered, and the scent of lilacs, lilies, and 
violets. Everything was enveloped as in a haze of fine and 
brilliant dust, and illuminated with rays of most beautiful 
light from the reflection of the setting sun, which penetrated 
through the tops of the trees, making sparks of fire burst 
from the silver of the harnesses, the buttons of the liveries, 
and the tires of the wheels. 

The wide sidewalks of Calle Alcala were also thronged 
with a compact multitude of people on foot, making their 


86 


CURRITA 


way into Recole tas, while one could remark at certain dis- 
tances groups of mantillas more or less well arranged, and 
little shell-combs worn on heads more or less graceful. 
Nevertheless the enthusiasm and shouts of applause did not 
correspond to the number and the luxury of the multitude. 
The pedestrians walked with that curiosity, the more eager 
as it was the more timorous, which a dangerous spectacle 
always inspires, — the curiosity common to the coward, who 
expects to hear at every moment the report of fire-arms. 
The ladies in the carriages on their part exchanged bows, 
signs, and smiles, without being able to conceal an involun- 
tary trepidation similar to that of the saucy child who deter- 
mines to commit a prank under the very eyes of the teacher. 

Suddenly in the direction of the Treasury the pedestrians 
stopped, and grouped themselves under the trees, while the 
carriages slackened their pace, and the coachmen called from 
right to left to open a road in the middle. Through it ad- 
vanced at full trot a magnificent Binder victoria, the hood of 
very fine chagrin thrown back, drawn by two fiery dark bay 
horses, two steppers of great height and powerful trot, 
which the iron hand of Tom Sickles managed as easily 
as the wind moved the bunches of lilacs and carnations 
which the noble brutes wore in their brilliant harnesses. 
Reclining on the satin cushions with a most distinguished air 
was the Countess of Albornoz, parading her shamelessness 
and giving the seat of honor to her friend and relative, the 
Marchioness of Valdivieso. The two cousins wore between 
them the national colors, the Countess of Albornoz in a yel- 
low gown with black mantilla, and the Marchioness of Val- 
divieso in a red gown with white mantilla, both having large 
tortoise-shell combs, and bunches of red and white carnations 
in their hair and on their breasts. The people stared upon 
seeing Currita pass ; the ladies waved their handkerchiefs to 
her from their carriages, many of them throwing her flowers ; 
while a crowd of elegants on horseback trotted on either 
side of the carriage in guise of grooms. In this triumphal 
manner she made her entrance into the Castellana. 


CURRITA 


87 


The carriages were already forming there in orderly file, 
and the Marquis of Butron could then appreciate the full 
number and importance of his feminine hosts. He was in a 
victoria of dark livery, with the Marchioness seated at his 
right, an estimable lady who had one of the most illustrious 
names in Spain, and could boast one of the most stainless 
reputations in the Court. Izabel Mazacan and Leopoldina 
Pastor were in a most exquisite milord , while further on 
were Pilar Balsano, the Duchess of Bara, Carmen Tagle, and 
a countless number of stars and constellations of the great 
world, conspicuous among whom was Lopez Moreno’s wife 
with her daughter Lucy. The former, dressed in blue, with 
a white mantilla and large roses in her hair, almost com- 
pletely filled a large trap, with adornments & la calesera , 
the coachman and footman having calanes hats and trousers, 
and waistcoats of dark velvet. 

All these women, some of them questionable characters, 
and many others, most of them honorable at bottom but 
frivolous and superficial in appearance, saluted, in passing, 
the illustrious fraud. All bowed at her approach, paying 
her the homage of their smiles and envy, making criminals 
of themselves by their pernicious condescension to vice, the 
mortal wound of smart society, contributing with their 
presence, and their luxury, either from stupidity or weak- 
ness or malice, to the great sin of scandal, and to the 
triumph of the most malicious Court knave who had ever 
contrived plots. 

The deification, however, did not last long. No one has 
ever been able to explain how it all happened. Some say it 
came from the Hippodrome ; others, from the neighborhood 
of Salamanca ; and others again, from a little hotel which, 
hidden in a garden, actually exists in the Castellana. The 
fact is that suddenly in the line of carriages appeared a 
large victoria a la Daumont , drawn by four white horses. 
Within were two women of the demi-monde, grotesquely 
dressed in red, with pompous mantillas and enormous combs, 
villanously caricaturing the ladies of the aristocracy. On 


88 


CURRITA 


the front seat was a ruffian with a tall hat tilted on one side, 
and long false whiskers, who seemed to parody a certain 
famous nobleman, at that time holding a conspicuous place 
in the Alfonsist lines . 1 

This was not a slap in the face, but a violent blow, a de- 
liberate kick, from his Excellency Martinez, who at a stroke 
finished with combs and mantillas more easily than did 
Esquilache with hats and capes. It has since been said that, 
from a window of the hidden little hotel, Martinez witnessed 
the scene, with his hands behind his back, shaking his big 
head and laughing his sly, rustic laugh, — 

“ Ju, Ju, Ju, Ju! ” 

There was a moment of great confusion, and of real 
alarm ; some men on foot and others on horseback threw 
themselves on the carriage with raised sticks to make it 
draw out of the line. The police interfered in favor of the 
demi-mondes ; and meanwhile the luxurious equipages fled on 
the gallop, the men biting their lips with indignation, and 
the women, full of shame, hiding their amazed faces. 

Currita alone remained, sitting erect in her carriage, her 
light eyes wide open, insulting all these honorable women, 
whose fault consisted in admitting her to their friendship. 
In a very innocent tone she said, in order to reassure her 
cousin : — 

“My dear, what has happened? Why are they all go- 
ing? Because two more women are here? What does it 
matter ? ” 


CHAPTER IX 

The afternoon ministerial newspapers preserved a studied 
silence in regard to the visit of the police to Villamelon’s 
palace, as if all obeyed the same countersign. The opposi- 
tion papers, on the contrary, were full of the event, all the 
head lines of their respective columns launching out into 

1 Historical. 


CURRITA 


89 


groans or cries of horror, accordingly as they were elegia- 
cally or dithyrambically impelled. No groans, however, were 
so intense, no cries of horror so rhythmical, as those launched 
by the pen of the aesthetic Pedro Lopez, in his article “ The 
First Step,” which was published that afternoon in the Fleur- 
de-lis. It was evident that Pedro Lopez had chewed lily 
roots upon giving vent to those sugary sighs, and that he 
had modulated his cries of horror upon those trills of 
Stagno, — 

“ Yoi parlate di patria 
E patria piii non e.” 

He had doubtless wept over the pink paper tears of eau 
de cologne, and bad in fact, upon grasping the pen in his 
hand, washed with pate agnel, imagined that he was waving a 
flag, with a parasol stick for the staff, and a piece of 
Brussels lace for the banner. When Pedro Lopez rested 
the sole of his diffident foot in the palace of the Marquis and 
Marchioness, when he saw profaned by the gross feet of 
the servants of a bastardly and despotic power those soft 
carpets which so many times the most noted beauties of the 
Court had trodden in the rhythmic movements of the dance, a 
mortal anguish oppressed his heart, a cloud of blood blinded 
his eyes, and he struck his forehead with a blow from his 
own fist, without noticing that it resounded hollow. To 
Pedro Lopez it sounded like a prophetic “Alas!” like a 
voice sad, far away, mysterious and dim, which murmured in 
the distance, “ The First Step.” The first step towards the 
ninety -three ! The first step towards the Terror! Pedro 
Lopez had seen there, sunk in the most profound affliction, 
the beautiful Countess of Albornoz, dressed in an elegant 
saut du lit , with plisse skirt of foulard silk and cream laces, 
idyllic as Shakespeare’s Ophelia on the borders of the lake, 
dignified as Schiller’s Mary Stuart in the Castle of Fotherin- 
gay, sublime as the Princesse Isabelle, sister of Louis XVI., 
whom posterity called “ the Angel of the Guillotine.” There 
had Pedro Lopez seen, and pressed the hand of, that noble 


90 


CURRITA 


gentleman, the punctilious Marquis of Villamelon, prostrated 
on a bed of pain like a sick lion, shedding tears of manly 
affliction at not being able to unsheath in defence of his 
noble hearth laid low, the glorious sword of a hundred illus- 
trious ancestors. And around these two noble figures, dig- 
nified that day by misfortune, and elevated by the mean 
despotism of a Government to that most glorious pedestal, 
the pillory of its indignation, Pedro Lopez had seen grouped, 
more beautiful even, as they were more afflicted, and as 
elegant in their simple morning negliges as in their superb 
toilets of other occasions, the handsome Duchesses of A, B, 
and C; the beautiful Marchionesses of D, E, and F; the 
enchanting Countesses of G, H, and I; the charming Vis- 
countesses of J, K, and L ; the most attractive Baronesses 
of M, N, and N ; and the delightful Senoras and Senoritas 
of O, P, and Q. The stern sex was also worthily repre- 
sented by the venerable Marquis of Butron, most polished 
of gentlemen; and by the Dukes, Marquises, Counts, Vis- 
counts, Barons, and Senores So-and-so, and by many other 
notable persons, who in the intensity of his emotion, perhaps, 
Pedro Lopez had involuntarily forgotten to mention. “ The 
First Step ! ” All heads seem to bow beneath the weight of 
the same frightful thought. But up spoke the illustrious 
Marquis of Butron, and the echo of his magic words raised 
the noble heads, and one saw there illustrious Vendeans, 
ready to dispute the ground step by step; Garridas, Mar- 
fisas, and Bradamants capable of realizing with the lustre 
of their eyes the feats of those heroic amazons of the first 
crusades. 

Here Pedro Lopez put four lines of little exclamation 
points, and immediately added : — 

“ We listened to his words, and a ray of celestial hope 
shot through our breasts.” 

More exclamation points. 

“ The villanous attempt of the Governor of Madrid has 
been the first step taken towards the Terror. But — let us 
hope again ! Already — 


CURRITA 


91 


“ ‘ The Castilian lion 
Shakes his mane/ ” 

And, on the next line : — 

4 4 It is needless to say that the proverbial hospitality of 
the Marquis and Marchioness of Viliamelon served to the 
illustrious throng a delicious improvised lunch, at which the 
attention of everybody was attracted by the delicate orange 
sorbets, served in the skin of the fruit itself, which, notwith- 
standing the inappropriateness of the hour, the heat of the 
day made delicious. We congratulate the Marquis and 
Marchioness of Viliamelon for having introduced this ele- 
gant novelty, which will doubtless be speedily adopted in 
the dining-rooms and drawing-rooms of the Court. ” 

All these, and many other absurdities on the same order, 
Currita read with delighted avidity, looking with disdain 
from the height of her triumph upon Metternich and Pitt, 
upon Bismarck and Cavour. 

It seemed very natural to her that they should call her 
Ophelia, Mary Stuart, and Angel of the Guillotine. She 
laughed within herself to see her husband transformed into 
a sick lion and punctilious gentleman, but allowed it to pass 
without contradiction, for she knew very well that no one 
mounts to-day to the temple of fame, unless with wings 
made of newspaper clippings. 

To crown her satisfaction, the director of a certain famous 
review then called, presenting her a card from the Marquis of 
Butron, who strongly recommended him to her. With great 
deference and volubility he manifested his desire to publish 
in the review the photograph of the heroic Countess, and 
also some engravings of the existing state of things, relating 
to the event that all Madrid was discussing. She received 
him with that amiable condescension common to great 
ladies, towards any scamp who flatters them, and at once 
conceded his petition, it being agreed that the review would 
publish the photograph of the Countess dressed in the cos- 
tume she would wear that afternoon at the display of man- 
tillas and small combs at the Castellana, and two other 


92 


CURRITA 


commemorative engravings, one representing the faqade of 
the palace in the act of being invaded by the police, and the 
other the moment in which, with valiant presence of mind, 
Currita went out to meet the invaders. 

“It would be convenient/’ said the journalist, “ to have 
some photographs of the locality, to serve as a guide to the 
artist, that he might note well the details.” 

“ Certainly,” replied Currita, much pleased. “ The Mar- 
quis is very apt in the art, and will be glad to take them for 
you himself.” 

And without loss of time she sent a message to Fernan- 
dito, requesting him to come at once to the salon in which 
they were. The servant soon brought the answer: “The 
Marquis had ordered the victoria at four o’clock, and had not 
yet returned home.” 

Fernandito in fact was at that moment very much har- 
assed by a mysterious doubt which he was anxious to solve. 
With very great uneasiness he had received the Governor’s 
courteous note, but, quite tranquil after having read it, he 
began curiously to inspect the returned papers. He read 
the first of the twenty-five letters without understanding it ; 
in the second he stumbled across this sentence, written in the 
hand-writing of the artilleryman : — 

“ As far as your husband is concerned, it would be well if 
we suppress the Villa , and leave him the melon ; it is proven 
that the poor man belongs to the Cucurbitaceous family.” 

Fernandito did not read any more; with his mouth and 
eyes wide open, he sat for a long time in suspense. Then 
rising suddenly and entering his dressing-room, he seized a 
stick with a silver knob, a slender bamboo cane, knotty and 
flexible, which cut the air like the hisses of a serpent as 
Villamelon in a great rage went hurriedly to the rooms of 
the spirituelle Currita, the weeping Ophelia and pathetic 
Mary Stuart, who was threatened with an immoderate whip- 
ping, instead of the poetical lake or the dramatic chopping- 
block. 

God did not wish, however, that such an ideal creature 


CURRITA 


93 


should come to such a prosaic end. Midway in a large cor- 
ridor, adorned with exotic plants, cages filled with rare birds, 
and curiosities of all descriptions, the large Kamschatka 
dog ran to meet Villamelon, wagging his tail affectionately. 
The Marquis looked at him a moment face to face, and 
suddenly, as if in his ears resounded those accents of 
Othello, — 

“ ... a compir la vendetta 
II del me in vita/' — 

he discharged on the head of the dog the immoderate blow 
which without doubt he had reserved for the poetic Ophelia. 
Presently, like the drunkard who, inspired with a longing 
from the first glass, does not stop until he exhausts the 
bottle, he began to shower upon the ribs of the animal a 
hail-storm of blows and deluge of beatings, the equal of 
which had never been registered in the canine annals of the 
frozen peninsula of Kamschatka. Panting and perspiring, 
he returned to his room, undressed himself hurriedly, and 
went to bed. 

“Morro, ma vendicato 
Se dopo lei morro ! . . . ” 

Ten minutes afterwards he got up again and ordered the 
victoria ; he went straight to Fornos, afterwards to the 
Casino, and then to the Yeloz Club, and receiving on all 
sides congratulations and queries concerning the event which 
all Madrid was discussing, he whispered with great reserve 
and dissimulation, in the ears of as many prudent friends as 
he met, a certain mysterious question. Some shrugged their 
shoulders, others burst out laughing ; all answered him no, 
but Villamelon still pursued his enigmatical quest. At last, 
in a little private room of the Veloz Club, he met an old 
man with large white whiskers and a head of very thick 
white hair, more worthy to crown the head of King Lear 
than that red and pimply countenance, in which every vice 
had left its imprint. His indisputable air of grand sei- 


94 


CURRITA 


gneur contrasted singularly with his abandoned and almost 
dirty toilet, and gave him all the appearance of an ancient 
monarch disguised as a shop-keeper. He was seated be- 
fore a large bottle of gin, which he despatched little by 
little from an immense crystal goblet, throwing in from 
time to time some lumps of sugar. His name was Pedro 
de Vivar ; he was the second son of a grand family, lived 
by gambling when he was not intoxicated, and made him- 
self famous in Madrid by his cynicism and scurrilous 
stories, everybody knowing him by the name of Diogenes. 
He had reached the point of being an original, and 
once in possession of this title, could commit with ease 
all sorts of irregularities, without having any other fear 
than that of observing people shrug their shoulders, 
murmuring : — 

“Absurdities of Diogenes.” 

He knew this very well, and took advantage of it to say the 
most shocking things to everybody, with the home- thrusts 
that his sagacious understanding and his great worldly expe- 
rience always prompted. He was a walking plaster who 
raised blisters wherever he went. The innocent Villamelon 
engrossed with his idea approached him, and after some in- 
significant words which gave Diogenes time to empty his 
glass twice, he finally exploded the mysterious question, 
looking carefully in all directions : — 

“ Friend Diogenes, you who know everybody, can you 
tell me who are the Cucurbitaceous family? ” 

Diogenes looked at him for a moment from head to foot, 
doubtless reflecting that one more readily recognizes the 
foolishness or the talent of a man by his questions than 
by his answers, and finally said: — 

‘ ‘ I should think so ! Come here ! ” And conducting 
him before a mirror, and grasping him with one hand by 
the neck, with the other he gave him a sound slap on 
the head, adding very seriously, “Here you are to a 
T ; ” immediately afterwards shrieking imprudently in his 
ear : — 


CURRITA 


95 


“ No se envanezca de su ilustre raza, 

Quien debia ser melon y es calabaza.” 

“ No one should boast of his illustrious race, 

Who should be a melon, and is only a squash.” 

The following day the ministerial morning papers broke 
at last the studied reserve they had imposed upon them- 
selves, and one of them, La Espana con honra , published 
a small extra, in which one could discern Martinez’s fist 
lifting the corner of the veil which hid the event, with that 
tacit refinement of malice which, without the necessity of 
naming, indicates by pointing with the finger. 

“ Yesterday,” said the paper, “ the visit of the police to 
the palace of the Marquis and Marchioness of Villamelon, 
previously authorized by the judge and ordered by the 
Governor, according to the prescriptions of the existing 
laws, was the subject of a great many comments in all the 
papers. By a lamentable piece of imprudence on the part 
of the chief of police, among the political papers captured 
in the apartments of the Marchioness were included some 
important letters of a purely domestic character. The 
Governor cavalierly returned these papers, without delay, to 
the Marquis of Villamelon, comprehending that in conjugal 
affairs it is the business of the husband alone to remonstrate. 
We believe, however, that the incident will not be followed by 
any serious consequences, taking into consideration the 
proverbial prudence of the interested parties.” 

Another ministerial paper, El puente de Alcolea , perfected 
this news with the following announcement, in which this 
time, not the fist, but the hoof of his Excellency Martinez 
appeared, delivering a kick worthy of the formidable hoof of 
the legitimate Apis ox : — 

“It is entirely without foundation that the registration 
effected by the police in the Marquis of Villamelon’s palace 
was without result. The Governor did not err in the scent, 
but was only mistaken in the game, for instead of a hare, a 
deer sprang forth.” 


96 


CURRITA 


And further on, describing the concourse of illustrious 
personages who had hastened to Villamelon’s palace, at that 
critical time, — 

44 To the great amazement of all, the Marquis of Butron 
also arrived hurriedly on the scene, with his budding beard 
completely white, which ordinarily is as black as a crow’s 
wings. It is not possible that the feelings or the surprise 
of the Marquis were so intense as to turn his beard sud- 
denly white. We should more readily believe that he had 
that morning forgotten the chemical secrets of his toilet, 
doubtless from not having had in mind the following anec- 
dote which we suggest to him. 

“It is related of Charles V. that once, when visiting a 
certain monastery in Germany, he saw a monk with a 
black beard and his head completely white. He asked him 
the cause of such a strange phenomenon, and the monk 
answered : — 

“ 4 Sire, I have worked more with my brains than with 
my teeth.’ 

44 Some months afterwards a Polish ambassador, who had 
black hair and a white beard, presented himself to the 
Caesar. Charles then remembered the answer of the friar, 
and said to his courtiers : — 

“ 4 Here is an ambassador who has worked more with his 
teeth than his brains.’ 

44 Let the illustrious diplomat be more cautious in the 
future if he does not wish people to make about him- 
self the remark which Charles V. made about the Polish 
ambassador.” 

Villamelon and Currita each read, on their own account, 
all this news, but took pretty good care not to communicate 
to each other their impressions; it appearing to her more 
prudent to play innocent, and to him easier to pretend not 
to understand. The Marquis, for his part, had already 
vented the distress of his heart on the yellow Kamschatka 
dog; and Currita also hastened to alleviate her distress in 
the delicate friendship of Juanito Velarde, who came to her 


CURRITA 


97 


very much alarmed, to ask categorical explanations of the 
event. The date alone of the letters sufficed to tranquillize 
him completely, and this faithful friend then took it upon 
himself to lessen the breach between the two, and to throw 
trifles to the winds, whispering first to the husband and then 
to the wife the remark of the goose in the fable : — 

“ Peace, gentlemen, peace! ” 

To this they both agreed without any very great reluc- 
tance, and that night they all three dined together en famille, 
in order to go afterwards to the Marquis of Butron’s house, 
where Currita wished to present her friend and protector, 
Juanito Velarde. 

Meanwhile the articles of the Espana con honra and El 
puente de Alcolea flew through all Madrid in the whistlings, 
scoffings, and sarcastic remarks of Trojans and Tyrians, and 
of Capulets and Montagues. Strange, indeed, that those 
who criticised with most eagerness, and who ran with most 
satisfaction from place to place commenting upon the news, 
were the men and women who, the evening before, had paid 
homage to Currita at the Castellana as to a queen, and who 
hastened to honor her in the same manner this very night at 
the Marquis of Butron’s ball ; which only proves that in cer- 
tain societies envy takes away with one hand what adulation 
gives with the other, not comprehending that the more they 
expose the deformity of the idol they adore, the more dis- 
gusting and repugnant is the homage they render to it. 

At eleven o’clock the heat and the throng of people 
made a sojourn quite insupportable, and a passage impossible 
through the drawing-rooms of the Marquis of Butron. All 
the doors and windows of the house were thrown wide open, 
and the more than ordinary concourse of people appeared 
like a confused jumble of jewels, feathers, flowers, exquisite 
gowns, and half-nude women, among whom the men stood 
out like black "spots, revolving around them, suffocating and 
perspiring like a swarm of black worms engendered by this 
compact mass of the world, the flesh, and the devil. In 
the room nearest the vestibule, the Marquis and the Mar- 

7 


98 


CURRITA 


chioness of Butron received their guests, seeing pass before 
them, with the same amiable smile, great names and great 
shames, perfect innocence and refined malice, honor without 
blemish and scandalous reputations, jumbled and mixed 
together in this house without a single noble or honorable 
protest against the shameless and funereal tolerance of 
smart modern societies. 

At a quarter of twelve the Countess of Albornoz arrived, 
imposing upon everybody her shamelessness and cynicism, 
making mud in the mire, according to the energetic expres- 
sion of an ancient historian. She came in, leaning upon the 
arm of Juanito Velarde, and her husband brought up the 
rear. The Marquis and Marchioness of Butron advanced to 
meet them, and while Fernandito presented to them the 
adored friend, Currita said, with her enchanting, timid little 
child- voice : — 

u He is a rascal, Butron, a rascal ! I won’t say he is a 
convert; but he is a catechumen who to-day for the first 
time wears our colors.” 

And with her feather fan she pointed out to the faithful 
partisan of the Bourbons the little blue and white knot of 
ribbon which, now that the private secretaryship to Don 
Amadeo had been discarded, appeared also in the dress coat 
of Juanito Velarde. Butron pressed the hand of the latter, 
murmuring some courteous sentences, and Currita, poking 
her head between the two with the most infantile sauciness 
in the world, said very low, almost jumping for joy, with the 
puerile vainglory of the child who catches a little gold-fish 
in a fountain : — 

“ A conquest of mine, Butron, a conquest of mine ! You 
see how much the party is indebted to me.” 

Meanwhile Currita’s arrival had produced a general and 
uniform murmur, in which the low jests and knowing winks 
exchanged by the grooms in the vestibule fraternized with 
the affected and icy observations which the elegant women 
who filled the drawing-rooms whispered to each other. No 
one, however, failed to press and squeeze forward in order 


CURRITA 


99 


to shake the hand of the heroine of the day, and to obtain, 
if it were only at a distance, some of the smiles from her 
lips which she was distributing to right and left. They 
then danced in her honor a sort of court quadrille, in which 
the most illustrious women and the most noted men present 
took part. Butron danced with Currita; the Marchioness 
with Fernandito; Juanito Velarde, as introduced by the 
heroine, with the Duchess of Astorga, one of the most sen- 
sible and honorable women who figured in the Court. The 
crowd increased around the quadrille, — the pride of all those 
who thought they should by rights have taken part in it 
beginning to rise in rebellion. The heat had increased with 
the influx of new arrivals, and a great many women had 
taken refuge in a lower drawing-room, which led out into a 
little garden, also crowded with people, and beautifully illu- 
minated with Venetian lanterns. Various grooms, with pow- 
dered wigs am^full livery of green and yellow, the colors 
of the house, went about everywhere, offering to the guests, 
on huge silver waiters, sorbets & la Albornoz, They were the 
famous orange ices, served in the skin of the fruit artis- 
tically emptied for the purpose. Currita, aided by Bu- 
tron’s butler, had reached the Herculean Pillars of feminine 
celebrity. 

4 4 Magnificent ! ” exclaimed the Duchess of Bara, taking 
one. 4 4 The thought is appropriate — Curra symbolized by 
a sorbet. Her freshness could not be better represented. 
Is it not so, Diogenes ? ” 

Diogenes hastened forward, limping, and sank into a 
chair. 

44 1 am ill,” he said. 

4 4 What ’s the matter with you ? ” 

44 What is the matter with him?” said Carmen Tagle. 
44 He has what the poppies have, — poison !” 

Diogenes blurted out something atrocious, accompanied 
by his favorite interjection, which he always used among 
ladies as a substitute for something more energetic, — 
44 Polaina! ” At his afternoon collation in San Antonio he 


100 


CURRITA 


had eaten some cucumber salad, which he had not very well 
digested. The ladies laughed heartily, intoning the well 
known tautology, “ What an original! ” and Carmen Tagle, 
to relieve him, offered him a sorbet, saying : — 

“ Come, man, take a Curra Albornoz and you will recover. 
Cucumber salad is not more indigestible than the article in 
El puente de Alcolea , and there you see the Countess of 
Albornoz dancing away as unconcerned as you please. ” 
“Yes, she is altogether too much so,” said an old, fat, 
shrivelled-up lady, dolefully, who peered forth between her 
satins and laces like a sugar-sweet in its lace paper. 

“ I never thought she would have the courage to present 
herself here to-night,” observed another. 

“Bah! Her effrontery dares that and much more.” 

“ Her effrontery? ” questioned Diogenes. “ Why ? ” 
“Why? You would be capable of defending her, I 
suppose ! ” 

“Well, I should think I would defend her. Her effron- 
tery! Your effrontery justifies hers! If you receive her, 
why should she not present herself?” 

“Just listen!” exclaimed, greatly shocked, the Mar- 
chioness of Lebrija, president-general of three pious asso- 
ciations. “I should like you to tell us what one is to do, 
then, in Madrid with that class of persons.” 

Diogenes looked at her from head to foot, and with the 
precocious impudence of his tavern language, and inexorable 
logic of his profound good-sense, answered at last: — 

“ Lock and bolt your doors, or don’t complain, my lady! 
Polaina! if you raise the top of the drain, what right have 
you to complain afterwards if there is a bad odor? ” 


CURRITA 


101 * 


CHAPTER X 

It has been said that hypocrisy is a homage that vice pays 
to virtue, and it is equally true that a false idea of honor is 
a deference that knaves pay to honest men, disciples of true 
honor. The latter is a human child of the divine morality 
of the gospel, the former a conventional theory dictated by 
the convenient morals of knaves and fools ; the latter 
defends, like a cuirass of brilliant steel, the purity of the 
soul and the rectitude of the conscience, while the former 
pretends to defend with Bayard's visor the great social 
system of conventionalism, invested with all human miseries 
and follies. 

According to the former, honor must never be lost, and 
the liar becomes Jhstly offended because he is accused of 
prevarication; the thief demands satisfaction from the one 
who accuses him of theft; and the criminal, who drags a 
chain, can call out upon the field of honor the judge who 
imposes it upon him. So that the blood which stains the 
conscience cleanses the honor, and men who have never 
known shame are called upon to decide cases of honor, — 
Eacos , Ninas, and Eadamants , brainless or malicious, who 
only from deficiencies of the Code wear no chain other than 
that attached to the watch in their waistcoat pockets. The 
Countess of Albornoz, according to this, had likewise her 
little code of honor, and the article in the Espana con lionra 
had profoundly wounded it. 

There are persons who suffer a sort of moral crookedness 
of sight, which makes them see nothing where there is a 
great deal, and a great deal where nothing exists. Villa- 
melon did not see anything which affected him in the regis- 
tration of police, except the two broken panes of glass in 
the screen door ; and he gave orders that they should never 
be replaced, recollecting that Wellington never restored 
those in his house broken by the London populace, when 


102 


CURRITA 


the latter one day forgot Waterloo. All the rest he cast 
aside into the pile of annoying bagatelles, the trifles of a 
corrupt and ceremonious society, dubbed with the worn-out 
title of Byzantine questions , unworthy of occupying the atten- 
tion of a serious man. Currita, for her part, did not see 
anything at which to take offence in what was said in the 
papers concerning her person, except that brief sentence in 
the Espaha con lionra , “ We believe, however, that the inci- 
dent will not be followed by any serious consequences, taking 
into consideration the proverbial prudence of the interested 
parties.” Currita had placed her reputation, as woman of 
the world, under the protection of Bayard’s false code of 
honor, and this stung her to the quick, directly wounding 
her honor, signifying, as in substance it did signify, that 
she was a Jimena with no Cid to defend her, — an atrocious 
insult, an unpardonable offence made to a lady who excelled 
in celebrity all the bull-fighters, mountebanks, industrious 
fleas, and wise monkeys who had up to date attained fame 
at the Court. 

“We’ll see!” said the haughty Countess; and she at 
once appointed her good friend Juanito Velarde as the 
paladin of her cause. 

A long tete-^tete interview took place between them, 
which lasted until the night was far advanced, and Currita, 
upon bidding him good-bye at the door of the boudoir, said 
in her spoilt, childish fashion : — 

“ So it is agreed that I will order the breakfast at Fornos, 
and that there will be ecrevisses a la Bordelaise.” 

Velarde made a wry face, which looked like a smile, and 
walked away; at the door he stopped and looked back. 
She then made another affectionate sign of farewell, and 
he went out at length slowly, and very much preoccupied, 
as if he was being dragged away by force. The night was 
very beautiful, and Velarde followed on foot the puzzling 
streets which led from Villamelon’s palace, at every step 
stumbling across the humble neighbors of the garrets and 
cellars, who were taking the fresh air seated on the side- 


CURRITA 


103 


walks. He soon reached the Plaza de Oriente , took two 
turns around the circular garden, and finally seated himself 
upon a bench facing the palace. 

From the main entrance a jet of brilliant light shone 
forth, which cut with a large rectangle the black shadows 
of the pavement. By its reflection one could distinguish 
the armed sentinels at the doors of their sentry-boxes. 
The day being Sunday the gardens were crowded with 
people of the lower classes, soldiers and servants, either 
seated or promenading. Several groups of belated children 
ran here and there with great shouts of glee, laughing with 
that spontaneous and communicative joy of childhood 
which recalls the joy of the birds at the dawn of day. A 
ring of children were dancing around at Velarde’s very 
side, singing in measured tones : — 

“Luna, lunera, 

" Cascabelera, 

Dame dos cuartos 
Para pajuela.” 

He, oblivious of everything, with his elbows resting on 
his knees, drew capricious figures in the sand with his 
elegant walking-stick with malachite knob. At dawn the 
following day, he had to fight the director of the Espana 
con honra. This is what Currita had exacted of him, covet- 
ous always of a sensation, and confounding the voice of 
celebrity with the cries of scandal, believing that this duel 
would place the only pearl wanting in the crown won in 
her last skirmish. In vain Velarde represented to her the 
great ridicule which this duel would bring upon Villamelon, 
upon herself, and upon him. Currita had already arranged 
her programme, and her restless spirit, always led on by 
a thousand objects which attracted without satisfying it, 
had fixed upon this duel, which it was anxious to see 
realized, with that expansive force of compressed vapor 
which characterizes the desires in souls of energetic tem- 
perament. 


104 


CURRITA 


Was it her fault that Villamelon was a Juan Lanas? 
Was she going to allow any newspaper whatsoever to laugh 
at her isolation? Would he, her only friend, the man in 
whom she had placed her friendship and confidence, be 
capable of abandoning her in this predicament? And for 
that matter their fates were united, and it was necessary 
for them to speak out as soon as possible to all these people : 
on her account, so they would understand once for all that 
she knew how to make herself respected; and on his ac- 
count, because he was young and beginning his career in 
the world, and no step was more fitting, no beginning more 
opportune for launching into that path bristling with dan- 
gers, than breaking a journalist’s head; as not in vain 
has it been said : — 

“ En aquesta Salvaje y fiera liza 
Lleva mas razon quien mas atiza.” 

Moreover, she demanded no catastrophe, no duel to the 
death. She would content herself with a little sensation, 
a sham duel like so many others: fire a couple of shots, 
and afterwards breakfast at Fornos. She would order the 
breakfast, and would not fail to have ecrevisses a la JBorde - 
laise which on his sporting days was Juanito Velarde’s 
favorite dish. Could any attention possibly be more ex- 
quisite? And was there anything particularly strange in 
all this? 

“ Nothing, absolutely nothing! ” thought the paladin, trac- 
ing hieroglyphics in the sand; but before the prospect of 
the duel, before the idea of firing a. couple of shots, he 
seemed to hear already the report of fire-arms, and at this 
sinister echo the phantom of the first crime surged into his 
mind. That of death came afterwards, and lastly that of 
hell, where there is no repose, no peace, no rest, no hope, 
only eternal hatred, eternal weeping, eternal gnashing of 
teeth! Velarde wanted to laugh at this idea, which he 
had heard so many times called the scarecrow of old women 
and children, but the Voltairean laugh would not then come 


CURRITA 


105 


to his lips ; he laughed, yes, but he felt at the same time 
in the roots of his hair, a sort of oppressive cold chill. 
For this man was not vicious; he was a poor boy full of 
illusions, and the life of the great world had gone to his 
head, as a wine of much body goes to the head of one whose 
stomach is only accustomed to water. Upon arriving in 
Madrid from his province, bringing for all patrimony some- 
thing similar to that which the ancient statute-laws of Vis- 
caya assigned to the second sons of great houses, — a family 
tree, a roof-tile, and a suit of armor, — he found himself 
suddenly in the midst of this brilliant world, whose doors 
yielded to his illustrious name ; and it seemed to him then, 
as to Galo in Rome, that beyond this assemblage of gods 
and goddesses there was nothing more to be desired. He 
then wished to occupy among them a place in his own right, 
and chance and his-handsome figure offered him to Currita, 
who was then in search of a confidant, to whom she was 
pleased to give in her house the post of Medor. This gave 
Velarde great importance, and tied to Currita’s skirts and 
Villamelon’s coat-tails, he was introduced into all the salons 
of the Court, meanwhile preparing himself to enter upon 
some brilliant career in that royal palace opposite him; 
his vanity and idle character preferring the pompous life 
of the courtier to the active life of the politician. Currita 
had promised constantly to aid him, and, the night before, 
the Marquis of Butron had also promised to help him, — the 
astute old man who swept all within in times of misfortune, 
until the hour should come to sweep without, which would 
assuredly be the hour of triumph. 

Velarde ceased gazing at the ground in order to gaze at 
the palace in front of him, the dwelling-place of the monarch 
whose private secretary he had been upon the point of be- 
coming. How tiresome to have to wait all over again and 
lose so much time! For it was quite necessary that this 
monarch should go, and the other should come; and yet, 
who could tell ? Perhaps one of those little shots they were 
going to fire, would knock down the card house which Cur- 


106 


CURRITA 


rita and Butron were helping him to build. Suddenly his 
reflections were interrupted by a harsh juvenile voice re- 
sounding at his side, and modulating between its discord- 
ant notes all the delicate tones of affection and tenderness. 

“ What are you about, mother? ” it said. “ You are not 
taking anything ! ” 

Velarde looked around and saw a drinking-fountain behind 
him ; seated at a little iron table was a lad who seemed to be 
a workman, and an old woman who was no doubt his mother. 
A glass of frozen orgeat was between the two, from which 
both were eating with two spoons, he swallowing his share 
with avidity, and she, looking at him with a placid smile, 
scarcely moistening her spoon, as if she left him to enjoy 
the refreshment to his heart’s content, it being sufficient for 
her to enjoy the immense happiness of this her darling son’s 
treat. 

Velarde at once understood all that this meant, and the im- 
mense value of this happiness bought for eight coppers. A 
wave of dormant affection and sentiment arose in his heart, 
bringing suddenly before him all the past, with the bitter- 
ness of the good lost through his own fault, and the poetry 
with which memory is clothed in the minds of youth, re- 
calling a vague crowd of beloved shadows, which all distant 
epochs awaken in the imagination. In the centre was his 
mother, whose first-born he was, and surrounding her his 
little brothers and sisters, all crying as he had left them 
three years before upon embracing them for the last time. 
She had then strained him to her heart with rapture and 
fervor, as if wishing to imprint upon his heart the depth of 
her love for him, or to engrave in her own his image so 
beloved. Her forehead already wrinkled rested upon his 
shoulder and her trembling lips whispered in his ear : — 

“ Juan, my son! Be a good Christian and pray to Our 
Lady of Regia! Remember your father, who died like a 
saint! I tell you, my son, and I know what I am saying, 
that one cannot die well who does not live like a Christian ! ” 

And when, later on towards morning, occupied with the 


CURRITA 


107 


thought of his journey he was closing up the valises in his 
room, he heard in the silence of the night the key turn in the 
lock of his door. He immediately opened it, and found his 
mother half-dressed and in her stocking-feet ; she had come 
cautiously on tip- toe to look through the key-hole. 

“ What does this mean, mother? Is there anything the 
matter ? ” 

“No, my boy, nothing; there is nothing the matter. I 
only wanted to see you again, child of my heart. To-mor- 
row you are going away ! ” 

And she whispered to him again, weeping with the energy 
of faith, which offers a sure consolation, and the anguish of 
the love which clings to a hope. 

44 Pray to Our Lady of Regia, Juan! Always be a good 
Christian, my darling boy ! ” 

Velarde felt ashamed of himself, and the mysterious wave 
mounted from his heart to his eyes, making him weep with 
his head between his hands, sobbing bitterly with more 
weakness than a woman, and more dread than a child. His 
mother, yes, she adored him ! She would not advise him to 
fight a duel, offending G-od, — placing himself before a revol- 
ver, running the risk of losing his life, the risk of losing his 
soul ! And three years had passed without his seeing her ! 
She was so far away, the saintly old lady, while he, ungrate- 
ful and perverse, had allowed nearly two months to pass 
without writing a single word to the poor old woman. 
Velarde felt the necessity of writing her at once and of giv- 
ing vent in a letter to that affection, that anguish, and those 
tears which consumed him. With long strides he took the 
road that led to his house, going over in his mind what he 
would say to her, patching up a letter full of affection, of 
protests, of endearing hopes, and of all he knew would most 
please her. She always praised his witty sajungs so much. 
How she had laughed, twenty years ago, when, as she ex- 
plained to him one day the catechism, he was amazed 
that there were only three enemies of the soul! 44 No 
more?” he said very much astonished, and his mother 


108 


CURRITA 


laughed, how she laughed ! Ah ! in what a different man- 
ner he laughed twenty years later in the midst of his tears ! 
Alas ! he was only six years old then, and it was necessary 
that twenty more years should elapse in order to make him 
understand that in fact there were only three, and that those 
three were enough and more than enough. In the middle 
of Calle del Arenal a boy began to follow him, trying to sell 
him the tenth of a lottery ticket. 

“To-morrow they draw! ” he cried. 

Velarde impatiently repulsed him twice, giving him the 
last time a blow with his cane ; but suddenly changing his 
mind he turned back and bought not only a tenth, but the 
whole of the ticket. If that ticket should draw a prize, how 
many things would he not do ! And thinking about it and 
making calculations Velarde finally reached the Calle del 
Principe, where he lived ; he asked for lights and shut himself 
up in his room. In a drawer of his desk, in a little frame, 
was an engraving of Our Lady of Regia, which his mother 
had given him upon the day of his departure. He stood it 
up before him against the inkstand and began to write, two 
hours being thus employed. He was very well satisfied, his 
affairs were going on very well, and the Restoration was a 
sure thing. The Countess of Albornoz — 

“Ah! no, no, no.” It was impossible to mention that 
name in this letter ! So he blotted it out, with precise and 
effective blottings that it might not be deciphered, and wrote 
in its place the Marquis of Butron. The Marquis of Butron 
had assured him that it would take place in less than a year, 
and had then promised him a very brilliant future. This would 
be the time to think of the future of the boys. Henry and 
Peter could come to him in Madrid, and little Louis, the 
baby, her pet child and heart’s delight, could remain there with 
her until he graduated as Bachelor of Arts. But about this 
they would speak later, for he was thinking — ah ! he was 
thinking — Had she not guessed what? Did her heart not 
tell her? Well, then, he was thinking of spending the month 
of August with them all, remaining until September 8th, 


CURRITA 


109 


when he would make with the family the novena to Our Lady 
of Regia. Presently came questions without end, afterwards 
messages without number, and at last the great coup which 
would make the heart of his poor old mother bound with joy 
and consolation. On the third of July, the anniversary of 
his father’s death, he was going to confession and commun- 
ion, in order to solemnize as much as possible that sad day. 

And he wrote as he thought, the poor unfortunate, at the 
same time begging of Our Lady of Regia to spare him from 
this duel which he was going to fight the following morning ; 
for it was quite evident that his honor was compromised, the 
business decided upon, and the sin committed, which it was 
now impossible to retract. He himself then mailed the let- 
ter, and at two o’clock lay down without undressing alto- 
gether, in order to rest until dawn. 

The fatigue of the preceding night, passed at the Marquis 
of Butron’s ball, soon overcame him, and he slept at last, 
thinking of his mother, who was leading him by the hand as 
when a child to the Sanctuary of Our Lady of Regia, erected 
on a large cliff overlooking the sea, which melted on the 
horizon into the sky, as if it were impossible to present two 
distinct images of the infinite, and returning afterwards, 
always proud and constant, to break against the rocks of the 
coast, roaring like desperation eternal and impotent. At 
four o’clock Velarde awoke terrified, for his servant shook 
him suddenly by the arm. Two gentlemen had arrived in 
a' carriage, and were amazed, and could not believe he 
was still sleeping. He dressed hurriedly, went downstairs 
aghast and perturbed, with them entered the carriage, which 
began to roll away without his noticing what they were talk- 
ing about, or what they were saying to him, or the road they 
took ; nor did anything form itself in his mind except the 
placard of a bull-fight stuck on the corner of Alcanice’s house, 
and a policeman with large white side-whiskers like those of 
Diogenes, who as they passed opened the gate of the Re tiro. 
Why did that man have side-whiskers and no beard? This 
preoccupied him a moment, and he thought of it an hour 


110 


CURRITA 


afterwards, when the carriage stopped at the entrance of an 
immense poplar grove, formed of most luxuriant trees, in 
which thousands and thousands of birds were singing in all 
tones the wonders of God. Here there was a little man with 
scanty side-whiskers and gold spectacles, as pale as himself 
and as terrified and trembling, while two other very serious 
gentlemen accompanied him. It seemed to Velarde that 
they spoke among themselves and measured the ground, 
gave a pistol to himself and one to the little man, placing 
them both face to face. Immediately afterwards there was 
a clapping of hands, and then a shot. Velarde gave a sudden 
spring and a horrible cry, and trees, mountains, earth and 
firmament turned swiftly around falling upon him as if to 
crush him. Afterwards a cloud of blood blinded him, then 
another black cloud enveloped him, and afterwards nothing 
— he saw nothing more on earth. He saw only Christ on 
high, alive and terrible, who advanced to judge him, and 
beyond Him eternity, obscure, immense, and implacable. 


CHAPTER XI 

The news of Velarde’s death reached Madrid almost imme- 
diately, and the Countess of Mazacan was the first to present 
herself at Currita’s house, with the mischievous intention of 
telling her the sad news. Currita changed color vividly, 
and for a moment it seemed as if the entire world had fallen 
upon her. 

“ In Madrid this has made a horrible impression,” said 
the Countess of Mazacan, very pointedly*, “everybody is 
speaking of his poor mother ; he was her only support.” 

Currita understood the terrible reproach which this obser- 
vation conveyed. Without taking time to reflect, but con- 
verting into anger against every one else her own remorse, 
a common failing with all selfish people, she forgot her 
delicacy and meekness, and turned upon the Countess of 


CURRITA 


111 


Mazacan furiously, like a cat whose tail has been trodden 
upon. In the impetuosity of her anger, she committed the 
imprudence of excusing herself. 

“How does that concern me?” she cried. “Do you 
suppose that I asked him to fight ? Who told him to put on 
a shirt eleven yards long? The character of Don Quixote 
also has its weaknesses, my dear.” 

“And so has that of Dulcinea del Toboso,” replied the 
Countess of Mazacan, beginning to bristle. 

“ Of course it has, especially when it is provoked by — I 
know what.” 

“And that is?” 

“ Envy, dear, envy.” 

“Envy? Whose?” 

“ Yours, for instance.” 

The Countess of Mazacan in her turn gave a spring like a 
cat, because the shot struck home. 

“ Mine? ” she cried. “ I envious of you! Of the Villa- 
melon ! Of the Vi — 11a — me — lo — na ! ” 

And she burst out laughing, with a laugh full of feminine 
spite, long since stored up, while she emphasized the syllables 
of that “Vi — 11a — me — lo — na,” which was by a strange 
anomaly the greatest insult which could be given to Currita. 

There then ensued between the spirituelle Ophelia and 
Diana the huntress a dispute worthy of Pedro Lopez for 
chronicler. They fought like two street venders, flinging in 
each other’s faces truths and calumnies, handfuls of mud 
kneaded in eau de cologne , with the impudence and malevo- 
lence of two Marfisas or Bradamantes of the lower classes, 
ready to grasp each other by the hair of the head, and roll 
upon the soft carpet, as they once rolled in the middle of 
the stream. The Countess of Mazacan had split her gloves 
in clenching her fists, and shrieked out with her beautiful 
soprano voice. The other, inflexible in her seat, with head 
erect like that of a viper which defends itself, spat out her 
impertinences without moving, looking neither to right nor 
left, like a small statue of petrified anger. In the midst of 


112 


CURRITA 


the dispute Izabel Mazacan alluded to the letters of the 
artillery officer, and this remark recalled something to 
Currita’s mind which seemed to give her a great fright. She 
rushed out of the room very hurriedly, leaving her rival with 
the insult upon her lips, and ran in search of Kate, her maid. 
Juanito Velarde must have a number of her letters, and it 
was necessary to get them back again without loss of time, 
before they fell into any one’s else hands, and before another 
catastrophe could happen like that not long since. Kate 
quickly got into a cab, and an hour afterwards delivered all 
the letters into her mistress’s hands, among them, by mis- 
take, being the lottery ticket which Juanito Velarde had 
bought the night before upon leaving her house. Strange 
mockery of fate! That ticket had drawn a prize of fifteen 
thousand dollars, which, after carefully arranging her plans, 
the Countess of Albornoz hastened secretly to collect. 

All Madrid began to file once more through Currita’s 
house condoling with her, through one of those satires of 
which the Court offers frequent examples. “ She was past 
suffering ; but had deeply felt the death of that poor boy, 
so congenial and so affectionate, attached like a dog to 
Fernandito and herself. The blow had been terrible, and 
the consequences to herself very bad ; for she knew nothing, 
absolutely nothing. Of course not! The poor boy had 
taken very good care not to say a w T ord to Fernandito and 
herself, understanding that, from delicacy, they would at 
once have prevented him committing such a blunder. For, 
after all, it had been a good-in tentioned piece of imperti- 
nence, one of those proofs of friendship which excite com- 
ment in spite of their heroism, and even offend decorum, 
besides resulting in other very serious consequences, which 
to them were quite annoying.” Here Currita lowered her 
voice, whispering with the greatest secrecy to those men 
and women who enjoyed the reputation of being the most 
renowned professional charlatans of the Court : — 

“ Just fancy, these poor people have no fortune, and his 
mother is reduced to misery. I do not know her; and of 


CURRITA 


113 


course it is a delicate question. But Fernandito and I have 
made a sacrifice and have already deposited in the Bank of 
Spain fifteen thousand dollars, so that the unfortunate 
woman may draw the income.” It was quite true ; Currita 
had deposited in the Bank of Spain the fifteen thousand 
dollars won in the lottery by Velarde, and immediately 
afterwards had written a letter to his mother condoling with 
her for the heroic death of her son, and lamenting the duel 
into which his excessive gallantry had led him. She after- 
wards added, in a postscript not exempt from cleverness or 
fictitious delicacy, that the circumstances of her position 
being known to her husband and herself, they both wished 
to prove the intimate friendship which had united them to 
her son Juanito, by offering her an income and a capital, 
which were deposited in the Bank of Spain, and the papers 
concerning which she sent enclosed. This letter once fin- 
ished, Currita shrugged her shoulders and was as uncon- 
cerned as ever. 

Meanwhile, no one thought to prepare that poor mother 
for the terrible blow which threatened her, and she, happy 
with Juanito’s letter, with the exaggerated prevision of 
affection, which delights in framing necessities which do not 
exist for the sole pleasure of supplying them, began to pre- 
pare the apartments of that beloved son, who, notwithstand- 
ing his ingratitude and his defects, was to her at that 
moment the most perfect model of filial love. There is 
nothing more disposed to pardon than the heart of a mother ; 
nothing like absence to blot from one’s memory the defects 
of loved ones, putting forward only their good points and the 
moments of happiness due to their affection. 

So she entered those apartments closed three years before, 
the sanctuary of her maternal love, which she alone visited, 
and began to consider the things to be taken out, those to 
be replaced, and those to be added, so that the guest would 
want for nothing, and would there find satisfied all the new 
necessities that he might have acquired at the Court. At 
this moment they announced to her a visit from the parish 

8 


114 


CURRITA 


priest, and she went down somewhat surprised, for the 
hour was most unseasonable. The good gentleman had 
read in the papers of the terrible catastrophe, and had 
hastened in dismay to the house of the unfortunate mother, 
to prepare her little by little, before any thoughtless person 
should suddenly tell her the news. 

With many misgivings and evasions, and without know- 
ing himself what he said, he began his sad task, telling her 
at last that her son was very seriously ill in Madrid. The 
poor woman sprang from her chair pale, surprised, and even 
irritated, as if it was some horrible joke they were playing 
upon her. 

“Impossible!” she cried; “he wrote to me yesterday! 
I have the letter here ! ” 

And she flew around the room looking for it as one de- 
mented, and spread it out before the priest trembling like a 
leaf, with her eyes starting from their sockets, and feeling 
horrible cold chills all over her body. 

“You see ! You see ! ” she cried. “He will be here for 
the month of August to remain until the Feast of Our Lady 
of Regia ; and on the third he is going to confession. No, 
no, impossible that he should die — my darling boy ! ” 

The three children and the two servants came running in, 
all pale with fright, anticipating, upon hearing the cries of 
their mother after the arrival of their pastor, some fearful 
catastrophe. The latter took the letter, but understood 
from the date that the unhappy boy had written it a few 
hours before his death. 

“Unfortunately, my news is of a later date,” he said. 
“ After writing this, he was stricken with a sudden stroke of 
apoplexy, and is very ill indeed.” 

“My God! Blessed Virgin of Regia!” exclaimed the 
mother; and grasping the priest by the arm, and fixing 
her eyes upon his face, she asked with white lips : — 

“Has he made his confession? Do you know if he has 
confessed?” The priest did not reply, and she repeated 
the question, shaking him by the arm. 


CURRITA 


115 


“His soul, father! his soul above all things!” she ex- 
claimed with an anguish which would have broken a heart of 
stone. He was obliged to tell her he knew nothing of that, 
and she, suddenly suppressing her grief, gave orders that 
they should leave for Madrid that very day, that very 
moment, — dry, laconic, explicit orders, the outlets of her 
immense grief goaded on by impatience. The mail-coach 
passed at four o’clock, and it would take two hours to drive 
to the nearest railway station. Henry would go with her. 
Peter, at a gesture from his mother, ran to the cab-stand to 
order a carriage ; the servants hastened to pack the trunks ; 
little Louis, the baby, began to cry ; his mother kissed him 
on the forehead. “ Don’t cry,” she said. 

She did not shed a tear ; the pastor, frightened, wished to 
detain her. 

“ But if you should not catch the train? ” he said. 

‘ ‘ They can run a special.” 

“ But that will cost a great deal.” 

“I have ten thousand reals in the house; and if that is 
not enough we can sell everything, we can beg.” 

“ But, madam, wait! ” 

“And his soul, father? his soul?” she cried with her eyes 
wide open. “ Do you think death will wait? And he there 
all alone, alone, the child of my heart, without his mother 
to make him confess, to help him to die well, if God calls 
him, to close his eyes and place him in his grave ! ” 

Little Peter came back greatly excited, his little hands 
trembling, trying to smile, but in vain. His voice failed 
him ; he had not gone all the way to the cab-stand. Why 
pursue misfortune when hope runs to meet one? On the 
way Martin Romero told him he had news that Juanito was 
better, almost entirely well. 

“You see? You see?” cried the mother, triumphant. 
And a great cry of joy escaped her. She burst out laugh- 
ing wildly, choking down her mirth with deep tearless sobs. 
The priest hastened to give the lie to this false news, the 
result of a stupid compassion, and he was now obliged to 


116 


CURRITA 


tell her at once that her son was dead. But he stopped ter- 
rified, for he had not the courage to tell her how, or when. 
She received the blow shrinking, retreating, and staggering, 
sinking into a chair, without voice, without pulse, without 
breath, and without tears, shaking her head and working 
her lips insanely, pressing both hands to her heart, where 
she felt something which had suddenly died within her, some- 
thing frozen and terrible as death itself. The pastor cried 
like a child and tried to console her ; she listened to him 
with her eyes fixed and glazed as one listens to a wind that 
howls, without understanding what its terrifying moans 
signify, but knowing well that they bring with them light- 
ning and tempest. Her children threw themselves into her 
arms crying; and at the contact of these three heads her 
mother’s-heart awoke, a great sob rent her breast, her grief 
at last finding an outlet, a relief, and a comfort in tears. 

Every one in the village respected this terrible affliction, 
and no one had the courage to relate to her the dreadful 
details of her son’s death. But three days later Currita’s 
letter arrived, and the unhappy old lady there found them 
complete. Her mother’s instinct made her divine all there 
was between the lines, and, without uttering a complaint or 
opening her lips, livid with grief and anger, she tore the 
bank checks into bits, putting the pieces into an envelope 
with the letter accompanying them, and returned all to 
Currita without adding a single syllable. The latter was 
stupefied upon receiving this strange reply, and shrugging 
her shoulders, murmured : — 

“ She must be some queer old woman. Just imagine a 
thing done, too, with so much delicacy ! ” 

She was very pensive for some time afterwards, because 
she did not know what to do with those fifteen thousand 
dollars which she had pretended to present to their legiti- 
mate owner. Her Zapiron scruples would not be altogether 
drowned, and the upright tribunal of her conscience then 
admonished her to employ them in some beneficent work. 
It occurred to her to give a grand ball, a brilliant and sensa- 


CURRITA 


117 


tional entertainment for the benefit of the children of the 
Foundling Hospital; but the season was already much 
advanced, people had been almost suffocated a few nights 
before at the Marquis of Butron’s ball, and she must, 
besides, start upon her journey to Belgium the latter part 
of the week. She then had a most happy idea, — to make 
with this money a splendid donation to Pope Pius IX. when 
she went to visit him in Rome in the beginning of the 
autumn. She was thoroughly enraptured with this thought, 
which silenced her scruples and satisfied her vanity, imag- 
ining she already saw in all the papers pompous praises 
attributed to the pious munificence of her Excellency the 
Countess of Albornoz. That night about nine o’clock Maria 
Valdivieso came in very much excited. It was absolutely 
necessary that Currita should accompany her to Prince 
Alfonso’s circus. Miss Jessup, an enchanting diva and the 
daughter of an American general, was to make her debut. 
She had come recommended to Pepa Alcocer, and to various 
others of the nobility, so Paco Velez had said. Last Mon- 
day, the very day Velarde died, she sang at Alcocer’s house 
the final rondeau from Cenerentola. 

44 My dear ! never in my life have I heard anything to 
equal it ; it will have an astonishing success. So get ready 
and let us go ; I don’t care to miss the final aria of the first 
act. My dear ! what a great truth is that ! I am going to 
apply it.” And she began to sing with a very bad voice and 
detestable ear, the — 

“ Sempre libera deggio 
Trans volar di gioja in gioja.” 

from La Traviata, an opera at that time very much in vogue, 
and which had been selected by Miss Jessup in which to pre- 
sent herself for the first time on the Madrid stage. 

44 Ah ! no, no,” said Currita, who was feeling out of sorts. 
44 1 am not in the humor for opera.” 

44 But, my dear, are you going to bury yourself alive? 
You have n’t been out for three days.” 


118 


CURRITA 


44 Well, you must see, I’m in mourning.” 

“ But you have already worn it five days. How long do 
you propose to keep it on? I would not have worn it ten 
minutes for Juanito Velarde; for, no matter what you say, 
he was very senseless, child, very senseless indeed.” 

44 Very well, to-night I will put on half-mourning. I have 
a gown which I have never worn that will exactly suit — 
black and white ; it is pretty, but I don’t think it would do 
for anything else.” 

44 Well, take advantage of the occasion, silly, and get 
ready quickly ; it is very late.” And she herself rose to 
ring the bell and to give Kate the necessary orders. 

Currita dressed very quickly, and in the meantime the 
Countess of Valdivieso conversed, dilating upon the voice 
and the beauty of Miss Jessup, and how splendid Stagno 
had been the night before in “ Un Bcdlo in Mascliera,” espe- 
cially in the final aria, when they were assassinating him. 
Paco Velez had told her about it. 

44 Listen : apropos of dead people, have you received an 
answer from Velarde’s mother yet? ” 

“Just to-day I had a letter. Certainly she must be a 
queer old body.” 

Kate took the liberty of interrupting the two cousins, 
asking if her Ladyship would wear black or white gloves. 

44 What do you think, Maria? ” 

“ The white ones would go well.” 

44 I think the black ones would look better.” 

44 Bring a pair of each color and we will see.” 

44 Yes, indeed, she must be a very queer old woman ! 
Just imagine, she has refused to accept the pension.” 

44 Heavens! my dear, what eccentricity! ” 

44 As you shall hear. She writes me a letter, very much 
indebted, very high sounding, with its small share of moral 
duties, and Divine Providence, and concludes by saying she 
needs nothing and has more than enough.” 

44 All the better for you, then; that will suit you much 
better.” 


CURRITA 


119 


“ Yes, but you don’t understand. I had already made the 
sacrifice for poor Juanito, and not because his proud mother 
refuses it am I going to retract. For that reason I have 
been thinking that when I go to Rome in October, I will 
make a donation of the fifteen thousand dollars to his Holi- 
ness, so that he may grant Velarde indulgences.” 

Maria Valdivieso was very much edified, and the two 
cousins went out, Currita, distracted by the conversation, 
picking up one white glove and one black glove. She dis- 
covered her mistake in putting them on, when already very 
near the theatre, and wanted to return to her house to 
change them. But the Countess of Valdivieso, convulsed 
with laughter, said : — 

“ Don’t be silly, dear; leave them alone. People will take 
it for an original idea, and to-morrow the fashion will be 
started.” 

“True! true!” cried Currita, enchanted. 

And it really happened so ; this new caprice seemed very 
chic to every one, and the following night, in the theatre, 
one saw everywhere costumes of two different shades, with 
gloves of two distinct colors. 

Miss Jessup’s debut obtained a sensational ovation, and 
a ridiculous incident was the only thing to be regretted. 
At the end of the last act, when the heroine was expiring 
on the stage, and Alfred, his father, and the doctor were 
intoning the last trio, a gust of stage wind unthinkingly 
struck the diva and drew from her, after death, a formidable 
sneeze. 

The following day nothing else was spoken of in Madrid 
except the ovation to Miss Jessup, her inopportune sneeze, 
and Currita’s gloves. No one remembered any longer the 
appointment of first lady-in-waiting, or Velarde’s death, 
or the registration of police. 

Currita now breathed tranquilly, seeing completely re- 
moved, thanks to her manoeuvres, the serious consequences 
which Butron had prophesied upon her appointment as first 
lady-in-waiting; her political fidelity was now established 


120 


CURRITA 


beyond a doubt, producing among other results three differ- 
ent trifles : — 

A disconsolate mother ; 

A soul in hell ; 

And the fashion of the different gloves. 

Meanwhile Villamelon was preparing with great diligence 
the photographs from which they would select the engravings 
for the illustrated Review. All the rest he had cast aside 
into the box of Byzantine questions. 


CHAPTER XII 

The express train from Marseilles to Paris was delayed 
four hours, owing to a bridge having been destroyed the 
night before, between Galician and St. Giles. The pas- 
sengers reached the great capital at half-past four, alighting 
in the gave de Lyon , hungry and out of temper. A man 
about thirty years of age was the first to spring out from 
a sleeping-car, and crossing the street before the crowd in- 
vaded it, reached the carrefour , with that confident manner 
exempt from all perplexity which always proclaims the 
traveller experienced in Custom-House snares, stations, and 
railroads. There he signalled the first of the many cabs 
which waited in orderly file, and the cabman drove up 
hurriedly, first measuring with a glance from head to foot 
the appearance of the traveller. The only baggage the 
latter carried was one of those English travelling-cases, 
rolled up in a leather strap, which contain so much in such 
a small space, and are sufficient to hold everything neces- 
sary to any English tourist who proposes to make a tour 
of the world. The coachman seemed to be satisfied with 
his examination; for among the rich furs which lined the 
traveller’s cloak, his quick sight had discovered that which 
is sufficient to constitute a great personage in the eyes of 


CURRITA 


121 


the Parisian populace, — a little yellow and white ribbon 
tied in the button-hole of his coat. II etait decore / Upon 
stepping into the cab, the traveller limited himself to saying 
in very well pronounced French : — 

“ Grand H6tel; Boulevard des Capucines.’ , 

The cab dashed forward, rocking from side to side like 
any Spanish simon, 1 and the traveller did not seem to 
experience any of that surprise mixed with admiration, 
curiosity, and enthusiasm, which seizes every one who 
visits Paris for the first, second, third, and even fourth or 
fifth time. He leaned back on the worn-out blue cloth 
cushions of the carriage, and, without even heeding the 
first murmur of life in Paris, which issued from the noisy 
Place de la Bastille, into which opened four boulevards and 
ten streets, and which already began to deafen and stun 
him, he began to look very carefully over some papers con- 
tained in a knapsack, which was flung across his shoulder 
from right to left. None of them were missing; in the 
right-hand pocket there were several open letters, some 
loose papers, and a small package of bank-notes. In the 
left-hand pocket was a large official letter, sealed with a 
royal crown, upon red sealing-wax. The envelope was 
addressed — 

“To His Royal Highness the Duke of Aosta, 

King of Spain.” 

The traveller turned the large letter over several times, 
with a certain suppressed curiosity, and even went so far 
as to hold it up to the light, trying to decipher through the 
envelope something of what was written within. The satin 
surface of the rich linen paper did not, however, reveal its 
secret, and the traveller had to content himself with reading 
again and again those large and running letters of the ad- 
dress, traced by a hand more accustomed to sign and make 
notes than to write at length, and evidently so proudly 

i Cab. — Tr. 


122 


CURRITA 


Italian that it placed the small dukedom of Aosta before 
the royal crown of Spain. 

Meanwhile the cab had crossed Boulevard Beaumarchais, 
and Boulevard Filles du Calvaire, and had readied the 
Boulevard du Temple, without the traveller having directed 
a single glance at the wonders which Paris was unrolling 
before his eyes, as he advanced towards the Boulevard des 
Capucines, the dizzy centre of the great Babylon, and the 
gilded and perfumed rendezvous where vice and folly flock 
from the four corners of the globe to wallow at the cost of 
their gold. There the street is converted into a square, the 
sidewalk into a street, and the multitude into a torrent 
which precipitates itself, with a certain relative silence, 
between two walls of glass, formed by the immense shop- 
mirrors, filled with all that human industry can do to con- 
vert luxuries into necessities, elegance into gaudiness, the 
valuable into the wonderful, and life into a fever of mad 
vanities and monstrous concupiscences. 

The traveller, absorbed in his reflections, in the midst of 
this immense multitude, whose characteristic trait is always 
that of the idler in pursuit of pleasure, and not of one in 
search of work, had just taken from his pocket a little Rus- 
sian-leather memorandum-book and begun to adjust in it 
his entangled accounts. At the head of one page he wrote 
“ Expectations,” and at the head of another, “ Realizations,” 
and so under that which he doubtless expected, as under 
that which he seemingly possessed, he began to add up 
figures which resulted in numbers, and these in their turn 
became sums, balances, multiplications, and divisions which 
confounded themselves in an arithmetical chaos, and finally 
produced in the column of “ Expectations,” beneath a hori- 
zontal line, this total, impregnated with mystery: “Two 
hundred thousand dollars and one cabinet portfolio.” On 
the page of “Realizations,” the result needed no interpre- 
tation whatsoever; it simply said, “ Naught.” 

And as if some illusory error might yet glide into this 
absolute destitution of realities, the traveller, scratching 


CURKITA 


123 


at times with the end of the pencil his wide and handsome 
forehead, continued jotting down figures and making cal- 
culations, until he drew another horizontal line, straight, 
black, and inflexible as an adverse fate, beneath which ap- 
peared this time something less than nothing, a negative 
quantity, and formidable debt, which was doubtless the only 
reality in the world which this man possessed. 
u 150,000 dollars at 15 per cent! ” 

The traveller remained for a moment looking at this dis- 
agreeable total, pressing the pencil between his white teeth 
until he broke the point, and finally turned away his eyes as 
if frightened, to fix them upon the most admirable view 
which the immense Babylon of Paris can offer. The cab 
was then crossing the Place de la Concorde, watered with the 
blood of Marie Antoinette and Louis XIV. Opposite was 
the Royal Avenue closed in at the end by the proud faqade 
of the Madeleine, resting upon its fifty-two gigantic Corin- 
thian columns. In the background behind the bridge de la 
Concorde, was the Bourbon Palace, surrounded by gardens 
and statues; on the left was the avenue of the Champs 
Elsyees, terminating in the vast distance with the Arc du 
Triomphe ; and on the right, this side of the river, hidden 
among the luxuriant Imperial Gardens, was what still 
remained of the Tuileries, several walls calcined by the con- 
flagration, — a vast historical error, an effigy of royal great- 
ness, buffeted, spat upon, and assassinated with blows by 
Rochefort and Louise Michel. In the middle of the square, 
rising between two monumental fountains like a giant of olden 
times, was the Luxor obelisk, friend of the Pharaohs and 
witness of fabulous epochs, which counts the centuries as 
months, and laughs recalling its Egyptian mummies; that 
human ant-hill which toiled at its feet, making it repeat what 
years before a poet had placed upon its granite tongue : — 

“ Oh! dans cent ans quels squelettes 
Fera ce peuple impie et fou, 

Qui se couche sans bandelettes 
Dans des cercueils que ferme un clou ! " 


124 


CURRITA 


The traveller, oblivious of everything, took in the entire 
view with the indifference of one who knows a place to 
satiety. Only upon leaving the Royal Avenue did his head 
appear curiously at the window, and his eyes seek from a 
distance the famous terrace of the Petit Club, more famil- 
iarly called Baby, which overlooks the entire Place de la 
Concorde and is the centre of reunion and favorite observa- 
tory of the haute gomme parisienne. 

The day was magnificent, and beneath an awning of red 
and white striped canvas several members of the club were 
smoking and conversing. Upon the stone balcony which 
overlooks the place , two or three youths were leaning, watch- 
ing the carriages file along the Rue Boissy d’Anglais en route 
to the Bois. The traveller experienced, upon seeing the Club’s 
awning, a certain joyous sensation, and by a spontaneous 
movement which was almost childish took off his hat to 
salute it, from that great distance, with as much respect and 
enthusiasm as if in its shadow he expected to find the minus 
150,000 dollars at 15 per cent, whose various calculations 
formed the sum total of his “Realizations.” Doubtless he 
knew well enough that in the Petit Club, in the innocent 
Baby, they gambled largely. 

Upon uncovering his head, his face was fully exposed to 
view, f presenting a strange and marvellous likeness to Lord 
Byron. One would have said that the poet in person, aban- 
doning his tomb in Nottingham, was crossing the Place de la 
Madeleine in a cab, saluting the awning of the Baby as he 
would the English flag. This man possessed the same strik- 
ing beauty of the great poet, the same beautiful head grace- 
fully poised upon a vigorous neck, and always disposed to 
assume the haughty attitude of disdain. His countenance was 
of the same perfect oval, with a somewhat projecting beard ; 
his dark eyes were most beautiful, and his chestnut hair curled 
in artistic natural waves upou a wide and noble forehead, 
which seemed expressly made for a crown of laurels. His 
lips contracted at the corners with that oblique line of bitter- 
ness, disdain, scepticism, and vice, always tired, and never 


CURRITA 


125 


satisfied, which appears so vividly in faithful photographs of 
Byron, as if through them were still gliding those crushing 
words of his last lament : — 

“ It is not love, it is not hate, 

It is that weariness which springs 
From all I meet, or hear, or see : 

To me no pleasure Beauty brings, 

Thine eyes have scarce a charm for me." 

Two things, however, were lacking to make his resem- 
blance to the great poet complete. His left foot was not 
lame, nor did the ray of genius which inspired Childe Harold 
beam in his countenance. If by a heavenly prodigy this 
man was Byron, he had doubtless returned to the world 
leaving in Nottingham his genius and his lameness, and only 
bringing with him the beauty of his twenty-five years and 
the vices of a lifetime. This Byron would not have gone to 
Greece to liberate it, but rather to exploit it; and in his 
eyes did not beam a longing for the ideal, but only a reflec- 
tion of sensuality, eager for money. 

Everything about him, however, was elegant and aristo- 
cratic ; and from the Russian-leather strap with silver clasps 
and handles which bound his small valise, to the memoran- 
dum-book of the same leather, in which he had adjusted his 
accounts of “ Realizations” and “ Expectations, ’Vas revealed 
that lordly luxury of minute details common to persons 
born and accustomed to live always in opulence. Only one 
thing was out of harmony in his dress ; a very caddish detail, 
which one could only imagine in some famous hair-dresser, 
or some second-rate Italian singer, — the little yellow and 
white ribbon which he wore in the button-hole of his travel- 
ling coat. But this showed, on the other hand, a profound 
knowledge of the ground which he trod, where any honor- 
able badge insures the respect and consideration due to a 
personage. It was a most prudent caution, a sort of shield 
with which the traveller protected himself from a thousand 
impertinences, annoying to all and dangerous perhaps to 
himself. 


126 


CURRITA 


The cab stopped finally in the Boulevard des Capueines 
before the vast portico of the Grand Hotel. Our modern 
Lord Byron paid the coachman handsomely and went quickly 
up the steps, meeting by chance at the very door a tall old 
man with large white whiskers, who was going out limping. 
The traveller turned rapidly upon seeing him, as if to avoid 
meeting him, and entered the bureau de reception to leave his 
card. But the old man, hastening his tardy step, and 
finally overtaking the fugitive, called out to him in Spanish : 

“Jacob! Polaina! You are running away from me, 
— a sure sign you have money about you.” 

“Diogenes! You here!” exclaimed Jacob, turning as if 
very much surprised and pleased, and extending both hands 
to him with great effusion. 

But Diogenes, shaking his big head and giving him slaps 
on the back said sententiously : — 

“ The man born poor 
Is compared to the cold ; 

• All from him flee 

Lest he give them catarrh.” 

“ False ! very false ! ” exclaimed Jacob laughing. 4 4 Neither 
were you born poor, nor — ” 

“ I am not poor by birth, but I am in health.” 

“Then join me; the cold you give me will balance 
what I give you. You know, old boy, 4 Similia similibus 
curantur.’ ” 

“ What did you do in Constantinople, little ambassador? 
I thought possibly you might bring back the Sultan’s 
beard.” 

Jacob held up to the level of Diogenes’ nose his small 
satchel, saying, like Simonides, “ Omnes divitiae sunt 
mecum ! ” 

“ Honest plenipotentiary ! ” exclaimed Diogenes. “ Let 
those who will, believe you ; of cours e, farceur, you must have 
left the booty at the station. Whence have you just come? ” 

4 4 From Geneva. And you, what are you doing here ? ” 


CURR1TA 


127 


“ Suffering from my bad luck, my boy. Last night a 
knave despoiled me ; carried off five thousand francs in a 
twinkling.” 

“ Is it possible! You still have the inclination? I 
thought you had sworn off.” 

44 Not until they bury me, my boy, not until then. After 
a while you must take a turn at the Petit Club ; there are big 
stakes up. Last night that macaw of a Ponoski made a 
pile of two thousand louis.” 

4 1 Is Ponoski here ? I would see him with pleasure, but I 
am leaving to-morrow.” 

44 To-morrow. Where the devil are you going?” 

44 To Madrid.” 

“To Madrid! Polaina ! So they will put a bullet 
through you, I suppose.” 

44 Why, man! What is going on there? ” 

44 Where have you been, little ambassador? Have you 
not heard the news? This morning Amadeo set out for 
Lisbon saying, 4 Good riddance to bad rubbish ; ’ and at 
this moment Figuerillas and that little parrot Don Emilio 
Castelar, must be cannonading the streets of Madrid, in 
order decently to install the Republic. They have com- 
pletely outdone you, man ! completely. ” 

Jacob was astounded to hear such reports, and grasping 
Diogenes by the arm, exclaimed in a voice very much 
changed, and as if this unlooked-for political catastrophe 
was of great importance to him : — 

44 What are you talking about? This is impossible ! ” 

4 4 Polaina / Come here ; some one who knows will tell you. 
Yesterday the Italian presented his resignation to the Court, 
and an hour afterwards it was accepted. To-day he left for 
Lisbon at six o’clock, and at this moment Madrid must be 
ablaze on all sides. Already more than twenty telegrams 
have arrived at the Grand Hotel asking for rooms.” And 
while Diogenes, very much excited, was saying this, he went 
with Jacob up the steps which led from the court-yard to 
the terrace of the Grand Hotel. Any one there might easily 


128 


CURRITA 


have imagined himself in an aristocratic drawing-room of 
the Court of Spain. Spanish was heard on all sides, spoken 
with that vehemence, and with those outcries, common to 
the race when excited ; while, scattered in groups and circles 
here and there, one saw men and women of the Spanish 
aristocracy, Isabella II. politicians, and many of those 
nameless personages whom one sees at all hours and every- 
where without being able to say aught of them, except that 
they are such and such a Smith, or Jones. All were dis- 
cussing the news from Spain, making imaginary prognosti- 
cations according to the vehemence of their desires; and 
while some already saw Prince Alfonso on the throne 
abandoned by Aosta, others pictured to themselves the 
Republic established under the protection of the popular 
masses ; and not a few saw the Carlist soldiers at the very 
gates of Madrid, taking possession of the deserted palace 
and vacant throne. 

Fear and distance always make things look dark, and all 
were of the opinion that Madrid must at this moment be 
already converted into an immense pool of blood. They 
were thus most anxiously awaiting the arrival of the mail, 
and with still greater impatience Uncle Frasquito’s return, 
who had gone to the Jouffroy Passage in quest of news. 
General Pastor and Canovas del Castillo, who had been 
summoned in great haste by the dethroned queen to the 
Basilewsky palace, were also anxiously expected. To the 
right of the lower reading-room door, which opens out upon 
the terrace, several ladies were seated upon iron benches, 
Currita Albornoz and the Duchess of Bara being among 
them. Farther on, and standing in the midst of a group of 
men, Leopoldina Pastor was declaiming with great vehe- 
mence, proposing that they should take arms, and expound- 
ing her strategic plan. The thing was most simple ; it was 
sufficient for the Spanish colony resident in Paris to present 
themselves at the Spanish Embassy, seize the ambassador 
by the arm, and put him into the street, then and there 
proclaiming Prince Alfonso King of Spain. From the other 


CURRITA 


129 


side of the Pyrenees they would unanimously approve. If 
the ambassador made an outcry, they would plunge him in 
the Seine, for said Don Salustiano had a stomach sufficiently 
large to float like a buoy. If Thiers got angry, they would 
grasp him by his small tuft of hair and would send him to 
mind his household affairs, leaving his neighbor’s affairs in 
peace, and all could be done in a twinkling. 

The men laughed, listening to Leopoldina, and she tugged 
them by the buttons of then- waistcoats, calling them good- 
for-nothings. Ah ! if she only wore trousers ! And really 
she was nearly upon the point of donning them, like Miss 
Walker, the physician of the Tunis seraglio, who in those 
days promenaded the boulevards in Zouave breeches and a 
slouched hat. Jacob’s arrival produced a bad impression 
upon every one : he was connected with the majority of those 
present by ties of friendship or kindred, on his family’s 
side as well as on that of his wife’s, who held a title most 
illustrious among the nobility. Having separated from the 
latter ten years previously, he had led in Paris and in Italy 
a most luxurious bachelor’s life, until, pursued by his credi- 
tors, he had taken refuge again in Spain in the year 1868, 
playing a most active part in the Revolution, and journey- 
ing by the side of Prim through the Andalusian provinces, 
haranguing the multitudes, mounted, like Lafayette, upon a 
white horse. He had formed part of the Constitutional 
Courts of 1869, and suddenly, at the time of Prim’s assassi- 
nation, had disappeared again from Madrid, reappearing 
shortly afterwards in Constantinople, as Minister Pleni- 
potentiary. All were then mystified to see him appear at 
such a critical moment in Paris, abandoning his high diplo- 
matic post, and they received him with that scornful sus- 
picion which the routed enemy always inspires who passes 
after the battle to the victorious side. 

Jacob, however, pretending not to notice the coldness with 
which he was received, ascertained of his own accord the 
truth of Diogenes’ news, without allowing the uneasiness 
which it had caused him a moment before to be discerned. 


130 


CURRITA 


He was completely ignorant of everything, or appeared to 
be ; two months before he had left Constantinople for Turin, 
then going on to Florence and Geneva, and afterwards mak- 
ing a delightful journey along the Italian Corniche, stopping 
in Bordighera, in Nice, and lastly for nearly a week in 
Monaco. 

Currita from her seat was gazing intently at the handsome 
traveller, the picture of Lord Byron, her favorite hero and 
adorable type of manhood, whose magnificent nude bust, 
sculptured in white marble she had always in sight in her 
boudoir. At first she did not know him, it being difficult to 
recognize in this haughty man the delicate young stripling 
Jacob Tellez Ponce, married twelve years before to the 
Marchioness of Sabadell, a distant cousin of Currita’s. 
Since then the latter had not seen him, and would never 
have recognized him if Leopoldina Pastor, approaching her, 
had not said : — 

44 Do you see Jacob Tellez? They say he was married to 
a beautiful Turkish woman in Constantinople. I wonder 
if he has brought the good-for-nothing here.” 

The Duchess of Bara made some impertinent reply, looking 
at him disdainfully ; the ladies laughed and Currita exclaimed, 
much astonished : — 

“ Why! is that Jacob? Who would believe it? If I did 
not think it was Byron in person, my favorite poet! What 
a perfect likeness ! ” And without waiting for more expla- 
nations she rose up quickly to go to meet him. The Duchess 
of Bara pulled her back quickly by the skirt, but she, trying 
to release herself, said : — 

4 4 Why, my dear, he is my own cousin. His wife’s grand- 
mother and mine were second cousins. How am I going to 
slight a relative ? ” 

Jacob, attracted no doubt also by family love, at that mo- 
ment approached the group of ladies and saluted them, first 
kissing the Duchess’s hand, and then Currita’s, they being his 
nearest connections ; and the latter, with a thousand affec- 
tionate flatteries, made room for him by her side on the iron 


CURRITA 


131 


bench. The conversation turned for a moment upon Jacob’s 
journey, until the entrance of Uncle Frasquito, returning 
from the Jouffroy Passage laden with news, interrupted it. 
Everybody ran to meet him, Jacob among the first, but 
Currita, detaining him for a moment by the arm, with the 
familiarity of fourth cousin to his legitimate spouse, said to 
him : — 

“ Shall we see anything of you, Jacob? I should like to 
present you to Fernandito. Our rooms are on the second 
floor, No. 120.” 

The Duchess leaned towards Leopoldina, saying in a 
whisper : — 

“Do you hear that? She wants to present him to 
Fernandito.” 

Leopoldina made a wry face and replied : — 

“Well, I suppose we must be blind and deaf.” And the 
two laughed with innocent merriment. 


CHAPTER XIII 

Pasted up, dyed, combed, shining with cosmetics, and danc- 
ing on the tips of his toes, being unable to walk any other 
way on account of his tight boots, which tortured without 
altogether diminishing the size of two protruding bunions, 
Uncle Frasquito came up on the terrace in great haste. He 
was the universal uncle of all the grandees of Spain, and 
of those second-class noblemen of his own rank, of very 
rich men from all cradles, of political and literary notabilities, 
official vagabonds, daring adventurers, and anonymous per- 
sonages, who formed the 4 4 all Madrid ” of the Court, the 
motley dessus du panier of the great social Madrid world. 

All these people called him 4 4 Uncle Frasquito,” because 
good form had so decreed it, and he complacently accepted 
the relationship with all whose blue blood, a century or two 
before, had really mingled with his most illustrious own. 


132 


CURRITA 


All others, without, however, rejecting the fictitious relation- 
ship, he placed with a certain protecting condescension in 
the category of spurious nephews. In the midst of this 
universal family, Uncle Frasquito had been conspicuous for 
upward of half a century, seeing defile before him genera- 
tion after generation of nephews and nieces, legitimate or 
spurious, who were born, grew up, married, had children, 
died, and were forgotten, without his ever having passed his 
thirty-third year, shielded as he was behind the extremely 
tight corset which subjugated the insolent rebelliousness 
of his abdomen. His years were similar to Daniel’s weeks, 
being years within years, although, more accommodating 
than the former, they lengthened or shortened as circum- 
stances demanded. He was thirty- three years old when in 
the year ’40 he was present at the Queen of England’s wed- 
ding, accompanying the Envoy Extraordinary of the Court 
of Spain, and he was of the same age in 1853, when he wit- 
nessed the marriage of his niece Eugenie de Guzman, with 
the Emperor Napoleon III. ; an unequal match and a humili- 
ating mesalliance which Uncle Frasquito heartily condemned. 
Bonaparte’s lineage did not altogether satisfy him, although 
he never went so far as to relegate the new nephew to the 
spurious category ; neither did he consent to designate him 
in any other way than by the name of “ My nephew the 
Count consort of Teba. ” 1 

The story circulated that Uncle Frasquito wore on his 
person thirty-two false articles, among which was enumer- 
ated a cork hip. It is certain that, at the moment in which 
we present him to our readers, returning from the Jouffroy 
Passage, to confirm to his compatriots the news of the Duke 
of Aosta’s abdication, obesity had changed his stripling fig- 
ure into an Alcorcon puchero , 2 while art, industry, and even 
mechanism worked jointly and pertinaciously in the daily 
restoration of this withered Narcissus, who lived in continual 

1 It is well known that the Empress Eugenie, before her marriage, 
held the illustrious family title of Countess of Teba. 

2 Spanish dish, a sort of stew. — Tit. 


CURRITA 


133 


risk of being converted into a spinage-beet, as the ancient 
Narcissus of Greek mythology was transformed into a 
flower. 

Uncle Frasquito was a rich bachelor, lived temperately, 
had no known vices, nor debts ; he was affable, courteous, 
obsequious, and pleasing, with the manners of a modest 
maid, and inflections in his voice like those of an affected 
young lady. He collected diplomatic stamps, embroidered 
on tapestry, played the flute badly, and pronounced his r ’ s 
in that guttural and lame manner common to the Parisians, 
which some Frenchified elegants imitate in Spain, and which 
in many others is a natural defect. 

Diogenes usually called him Francesca di Rimini, and 
sometimes sena Frasquito, and persecuted him and pursued 
him through drawing-rooms and salons, and even among the 
ladies, where the effeminate nobleman was accustomed to 
take refuge, giving him impetuous embraces, which rumpled 
and stained his immaculate shirt-front, and extemporaneous 
kisses which obliged the dainty old gentleman to wash and 
rub himself with cold cream. He would tread upon his vic- 
tim’s feet with seeming unconsciousness, causing his bunions 
to start, and tarnishing his boots, or would give him beastly 
hand-squeezes, which dislocated his fingers, the thirty-two 
components which the legend assigned to his person incurring 
the risk of being scattered in all directions. These two old 
men, with characters and manners so different, were never- 
theless two ancient types of the same society, two fossil 
examples of those noblemen of the past century, some vul- 
garly vicious and cynical, others unsubstantial and effemi- 
nate fops, who were the cause in Spain of the ruin and dis- 
credit of the nobility. 

Uncle Frasquito came up on the terrace with the manner 
of an afflicted maiden, and everybody surrounded him, be- 
sieging him with questions. All was confirmed by new re- 
ports, and the sauve qui ipeut was general in Madrid. The 
news that Don Amadeo had fled with his family to Lisbon 
was corroborated, and the telegraph had transmitted the 


134 


CURRITA 


names of those persons who formed the first cabinet of the 
new-born Republic. 

“ Of the Spanish Rrrepublic ! ” exclaimed Uncle Frasquito, 
taking off his hat with burlesque solemnity. And amidst 
scornful laughs, and ironical observations, he began to read 
aloud from his elegant little memorandum-book, where the 
names of the new ministers were jotted down. 

14 But what names, great heavens ! 1 It is enough to make 
one die of laughter ! Figueras, Castelar, Pi y Margall, the 
two Salmerones, Nicholas and Paquito — Cordoba ! ” 

“Corrdoba! friends, Corrdoba! Fernandito Corrdoba a 
rrepublican! Who would have thought it, when we went 
together to Benavente’s house, the time that Ferrnando VII. 
sent him to Portugal with his brother Louis, in the absence 
of the infante Don Carrlos, and the Princess of Beyrra? 
Of course I was then but a child, a veritable baby.” 

Uncle Frasquito did not take into consideration that, 
according to these dates, he would have been obliged to 
assist, six years before his birth, at the Duchess of Bena- 
vente’s balls. He continued enumerating the names of the 
remaining ministers, — Echegaray, Beranger, and Becerra ! 
Great heavens ! but this, indeed, was a slap in the face for 
Spain ; and those little dwarfs with liberty caps chaining the 
Castilian lion recalled to mind that magnificent image, — 

“ Ce grand peuple espagnol au membres enerves, 

Expire dans cet antre ou son sort le termine, 

Triste comme un lion ronge par la vermine ! " 

“How facetiously caddish those democrats always are! 
The first thing that occurred to them was to serenade that 
most interesting Don Emilio, by playing the Marseillaise .” 

1 The reader will understand that the criticisms of actually existing 
persons, proceeding from the mouths of the characters in this novel, 
are not the author’s own judgments, but rather the reflex of those 
opinions formed in that epoch by the portion of society which said per- 
sons represent. The author, so devoid of scruples of any kind when 
attacking vice and insolence to its face, always reserves his opinion of 
actual persons, and finds himself far from pretending to wound any 
personality whatsoever, no matter how despicable it may appear to him. 


CURRITA 


135 


“ Ah ! 9a ira, 9a ira, 9a ira — 

Celui qui s’eleve on Fabaissera. 

Celui qui s’abaisse on Felevera. 

Ah ! 9a ira, 9a ira, 9a ira ! ” 

“ How delicious! ” exclaimed Currita. “ And did he make 
them a little speech? ” 

u I should think so! — from his balcony, as Neilson sang 
in Vienna; and later on regaled the crowd with bonbons 
and cigarettes.” 

“ Delightful, really ! Doubtless this winter he will give 
receptions.” * 

“ Yes; for the citizens sans culottes” 

“ Polaina /” exclaimed Diogenes. “In whatever door- 
way they hang out a ham, there all Madrid will flock, and 
you, Curra, will be among the first to go.” 

Uncle Frasquito was terrified upon hearing Diogenes’ 
voice, and, fearing some of his effusive demonstrations of 
affection, scurried away surreptitiously, almost whispering 
his last piece of news : The telegrams also announced that 
Don Carlos had entered Spain through Zugarramurdi, and 
that his partisans, taking advantage of the confusion, were 
preparing to make a supreme effort to take possession of the 
throne. This disgusted everybody, as it seemed to them the 
Carlists were more to be feared than the Republic ; but at 
this moment a tall old man of martial aspect, with long, 
twisted, white whiskers, came in to arouse their drooping 
spirits. It was General Pastor, Leopoldina’s brother, who 
had returned from his conference with the Queen in the 
Basilewsky palace. 

The general entered as radiant and satisfied as if he 
already saw in perspective the portfolio of war, and answer- 
ing with smiles and empty words the thousand questions 
showered upon him from all sides, hastened to deliver a 
message to the Countess of Albornoz and the Duchess of 
Bara from her Majesty the Queen. The latter had ap- 
pointed them to accompany her the following day to the 
Expiatory Chapel of the Boulevard Haussman, where the 


136 


CURRITA 


anniversary mass, that year somewhat delayed, of the unfor- 
tunate Louis XVI. was to be celebrated. The spectacle 
promised to be curious, as the princes of Orleans, reconciled 
with the Comte de Chambord, would assist for the first time 
in public at these symbolical rites. 

General Pastor then opened his budget of news, letting it 
be understood, with a certain political vanity, that he con- 
cealed more than he disclosed. He confirmed everything 
that had been said by Uncle Frasquito, adding that the 
proclamation of the Republic was a gigantic step taken 
towards the Restoration, that the most terrible disorders 
would soon break out in Spain, and that the European 
Powers, alarmed by the experiences of the Commune in 
France, would hasten to intervene in favor of Prince Alfonso. 
Secret notes from several foreign ambassadors had already 
arrived at the Basilewsky palace, and Thiers himself, fearful 
lest the wrath of the allied monarchies should fall upon his 
head, refused to recognize the new Republic. Only Mr. 
Hamlin, United States minister to Spain, had hastened to 
recognize the new order of things in the name of his govern- 
ment, presenting himself at the President’s palace with all 
the ceremony customary in monarchial times, and suggesting 
in his speech, with the jesting formality of Jonathan in per- 
son, that “ The United States could not but contemplate 
with sympathy and emotion the kingdom of Ferdinand and 
Isabella converted into a republic.” 

“Out upon the good-for-nothing !” exclaimed Leopoldina 
Pastor, in a rage. “ These farceur Yankees know no differ- 
ence between Figueras and Ferdinand the Catholic, and a 
cotton cap is the same to them as a crown. Cotton is king! 
How interesting ! And to think that only three weeks ago 
we all danced at his house ! Really, it seems, after all, we 
lose all shame when it is a question of amusing ourselves.” 

“ Tu dixisti ! ” 1 cried Diogenes, with much warmth. 

“And I repeat it,” continued Leopoldina, “but I can 
assure the good-for-nothing he will have to hear from my lips 
1 Thou hast said it, — Tjr. 


CURRITA 137 

four well pronounced little words. Indeed, I had foreseen 
this. At his last ball he wore blue cotton stockings.” 

“ Because his father-in-law has a factory in Boston.” 

“ How delicious ! ” exclaimed Currita ; “ when they confer 
the garter upon the son-in-law the father-in-law can present 
him with the stocking.” 

‘ ‘ Doubtless he announced the fact upon terminating his 
discourse at the President’s house, like the Yankee preacher 
who concluded his sermon by saying : ‘ I have shown you, 
my beloved brethren, that only by virtue can one gain 
heaven. It only remains for me to recommend to you, in 
conclusion, Mr. Francis Morton’s magnificent hat factory, 
24 Catherine Street. His entire stock is of the best and 
cheapest, — net cash, — in other words, not on credit.’ ” 

The electric bell which announces aux hommes d’equipe 
the arrival of new travellers began to ring at this moment, 
and presently Gorito Sardona came in, very much excited, 
announcing that Lopez Moreno’s wife had just that moment 
alighted at the Grand H6tel, having come from Madrid, and 
that she had been nearly assassinated on the way. 

“ One of her ears is hanging ! ” he added, pulling his own. 

The company were horrified, and all went out to meet her, 
anxious to see the earless banker’s wife. The Duchess, 
however, fearing, no doubt, that the former would transfer 
to her ears the famous mortgages which she had upon her 
lands, tried to slip out through the reading-room, but so 
unsuccessfully that in the very court-yard she ran up against 
the lady, her daughter Lucy, two maids, a man servant, 
seventeen trunks, and an unlimited number of boxes and 
bandboxes. The banker’s wife had arrived, pale and 
dejected, and the lobe of her left ear was really bleeding. 

Upon seeing herself caught, the Duchess went forward to 
meet Lopez Moreno’s wife, exclaiming very affectionately : 

“ Ramona, my dear ! why did you not let me know ? ” 

“Let you know?” exclaimed the lady in a frightened 
manner. “I am thankful to have arrived alive! What a 
journey, Duchess, what a journey! On the way I was 


138 


CURRITA 


nearly assassinated. I revived yesterday ; it was a miracle, 
a miracle ! ” 

“Horrors!” exclaimed the Duchess, at the same time 
looking about her, with the hope that Providence had not 
also spared Mr. Lopez Moreno, and adding : — 

“ But where is your husband? Is he not coming? ” 

The tender wife made another frightened gesture, and 
answered without being overmuch affected : — 

“ He is in Matapuerca, if he is alive ! ” 

“In Matapuerca?” exclaimed Diogenes. “It cannot 
be ! He must be in Matapuerco.” 

“ No, no, in Matapuerca,” replied Lopez Moreno’s wife, 
without understanding the old man’s joke. 

And surrounded by all the Spaniards, who attracted by 
curiosity had come gradually flocking around, the voluble 
lady began the narration of her misfortunes. Spain was 
from that moment certainly going to ruin. People were 
escaping from Madrid in flocks, and it really seemed as if 
the trumpet of the last judgment had resounded in the 
Court. 

“ I should be delighted ! ” exclaimed Diogenes. “ I have 
been waiting for that little trumpet. What things will be 
revealed when the angel says : ‘ Every dollar to its owner, 

and every child to its father ! ’ ” 

The Duchess silenced him with a tap from her fan, and 
Lopez Moreno’s wife, filled with satisfaction upon seeing 
herself the centre of attraction, continued the narration of 
her fright, which was atrocious and barbarous. “ The train 
was made up of forty-two coaches, crammed with people 
who were going to Biarritz, San Juan de Luz, Bayonne, 
anywhere, provided they passed the frontier. At Victoria 
another engine was added, and four companies of Luchana’s 
regiment got in. Dreadful ! During the night everything 
went well ; but upon reaching Alsasua, Holy Virgin ! There 
were the Carlists ! and almost immediately upon our arrival, 
— prurrrrummn ! a most frightful volley was discharged ! — 
and suddenly, my dear, suddenly, without any warning 


CURRITA 


139 


whatsoever, without even saying, One, two, three, fire; 
nothing, nothing, only prurrrrummn ! Let fall who may! 
The troops of course answered, prurrrrummn! with another 
volley. I dropped as if dead, and Lucy too, under the seat, 
without even breathing, and — prurrrrummn ! above, and 
prurrrrummn! below, an hour and a half of firing! Pres- 
ently the little window opened, a hand was thrust in which 
grasped me by the ear and then disappeared.’’ 

44 How atrocious!” they all exclaimed, and Gorito Sar- 
dona, with his crude formality, added : — 

“Did they think of making a cutlet? ” 

“No, sir,” replied the victim, somewhat nettled. “What 
they thought of doing, and what they did do, was to carry 
off a diamond which I wore, worth five hundred dollars. 
Afterwards they said it was one of the station loafers, but 
no one can make me believe but that it was the curate of 
Santa Cruz, as it occurred in the middle of the tunnel, in the 
dark, and on the opposite wall I distinctly saw the shadow 
of his tile hat.” 

“ How barbarous ! ” 

4 4 But did you see the Carlists ? ” 

44 Did I see them ? As we came out of the tunnel, there 
was an army of them on a height ; and in the middle was one 
with epaulets, who was Don Carlos. Lucy says no, but I 
know it was, — a very small, squint-eyed man, with a red 
beard and pock-marked, who did so, with his handkerchief. ” 

And Lopez Moreno’s wife waved hers vigorously, with a 
dreadful gesture of menace. 

44 But Don Carlos is very tall and dark, with a black beard. 
I knew him at Yevey.” 

44 Then he was disguised ; it would not be so difficult for 
him to dye his beard red.” 

“But it would be impossible, being over six feet tall, for 
him to shrink to the half that height.” 

44 It may be that I am mistaken, but I doubt it,” replied 
tho lady, who did not easily renounce the honor of having 
been menaced by a royal fist. General Pastor listened to all 


140 


CURRITA 


this very complacently, seeing in this catastrophe the first 
mutterings of the terrible tempest which was about to break 
loose in Spain. From this chaos the Restoration would 
come forth, and the policy of the party therefore directed all 
its forces to excite and maintain disorder. A thoughtless 
remark of the General’s revealed to those best informed that 
he was thoroughly aware of all that was going on. He 
asked Lopez Moreno’s wife if upon her departure from 
Madrid anything had been said in the Court about socialis- 
tic uprisings in Andalusia. 

“And you ask me that ?” exclaimed the banker’s wife, 
with energetic wrath. “Do you mean to say you know 
nothing of what has happened in Matapuerca ? ” 

“Ah! my dear lady,” interrupted Currita, with all her 
aristocratic impertinence, “could it not be Mata — some- 
thing else ? ” 

“ But it is called Matapuerca . 1 It is a magnificent pasture 
ground in the Province of Extremadura, of more than three 
thousand aranzadas 2 with twenty villages, — Really, a small 
kingdom. It belonged to the Augustinian monks, and my 
husband bought it at the time of the Mendizabal affair.” 

Currita made a gesture of most patient resignation and 
asked : — 

4 4 And what has happened in the little kingdom of Mata- 
— those little animals ? ” 

44 Nothing much, a mere trifle! When the Republic was 
proclaimed, a horde of those bandits invaded the pasture, 
assassinated the overseer and three keepers, and divided the 
lands between them. Lopez Moreno started for the place 
instantly, and I am most uneasy, for I don’t know what he 
is going to do.” 

44 What should he do ? ” exclaimed Diogenes. 44 Polaina / 
What the Augustinian monks did, when your husband and 
Mendizabal took the pasture from them. They had patience, 
madam ! To every hog comes its St. Martin, Dona Ramona ; 
did you imagine he would fail to come to the hogs of Mata- 

1 Mata-puerco, kill-hog. — Tb. 2 A measure of land. — Tk. 


CURRITA 141 

puerca ? The Socialists ! friends, the Socialists ! They 
have learned logic ; behold the new avengers ! ” 

Lopez Moreno’s wife was about to reply very sharply, but 
General Pastor, rubbing his hands with joy, stopped her, 
saying : — 

“You bring us excellent news, madam; things are pro- 
gressing finely, much better than I expected.” 

“ Well, just listen ! ” exclaimed the banker’s wife, stupe- 
fied. “ You would not say the same if they had robbed you 
of a pasture, and carried off an ear with a diamond worth 
five hundred dollars.” 

“ It is nothing, Dona Ramona ; you will have to resign 
yourself to be for some time the dethroned queen of Mata- 
puerca. The Restoration will soon re-establish you on your 
throne ; and do you know what I have been thinking ? ” 
added the general as if struck by a sudden idea. “ That the 
Queen would be very much pleased to hear from yourself 
this news. Would it inconvenience you to go to the 
Palace?” 

The banker’s wife was overwhelmed with satisfaction, and 
the Duchess, who hastened to pay her with honors and 
attentions what she did not pay with money, exclaimed 
enthusiastically : — 

“ A magnificent idea ! I will take her myself. To-morrow 
I will ask the Queen for an audience.” 

“ The Queen will certainly be delighted to hear her,” 
observed Currita, meaningly. “ Dona Ramona narrates very 
w r ell, and uses certain imitative expressions with much effect. 
Every time she says ‘ prurrrrummn ! ’ it really seems as if 
one smelt the powder. How delicious to hear her relate the 
degringolade of Matapuerca ! ” 

Lopez Moreno’s wife did not understand anything of all 
this, affected and occupied as she was in thanking the General 
and the Duchess. The golden dream of her whole life, to be 
received at Court, was about to be realized, and for such an 
honor the cost of a torn ear and a lost pasture ground did 
not seem too dear. The General for his part followed 


142 


CURRITA 


Butron’s policy to sweep all within, and already calculated 
the copious incisions which, in the name of the conspirators, 
his victorious sword would make in the coffers of the Lopez 
Morenos. During all this scene Currita had not for an 
instant lost sight of Jacob, who was listening attentively, 
without hurrying to go to his room to make his toilet and 
rest. At the breaking up of the reunion, as the dinner hour 
was approaching, Currita missed him from the terrace ; she 
went quickly into the reading-room, then out into the court- 
yard, but could not find him anywhere. Uncle Frasquito 
was at this moment ascending the front staircase, offering 
his arm to his spurious niece, the dethroned Queen of Mata- 
puerca, who stopped on every step to expatiate upon her 
terrible fright, the importance of her pasture ground, the 
pain in her ear, and the horror of those thundering volleys. 

Prurrrrummn I 


CHAPTER XIV 

Opportunity is always the precursor of success, and arriv- 
ing on time has erected the pedestal of numerous celeb- 
rities, and crowned many heroes with laurels. Every 
character, then, requires special circumstances to favor it, 
an educated epoch to serve as a background, and an 
opportune historical moment to permit it to unfold in all its 
strength. A Hercules in prehistoric times, or a Cid in 
chivalric times, would be but a Quixote in the times of 
double entry and so much per cent. An Espartero and a 
Mendizabal, on the contrary, would have been in those 
remote ages, one a money-lending Jew, the other a member 
of the Santa Hermandad. 

Jacob Tellez believed that he had the misfortune to be 
born at the wrong time and in the wrong place. Amid the 
sanguinary waves of the great French Revolution he judged 
that he might have been a Mirabeau on account of his 
talent, or a Lafayette because of his courage; but in the 


CURRITA 


143 


miry whirlpools of the Spanish Revolution of ’68, he was 
only, in the opinion of those who knew him, a poor devil as 
a politician, and a great fool as a leader. 

Those two great figures, aristocratic renegades like him- 
self, completely fascinated him; but Mirabeau’s wig and 
Lafayette’s coat were too big for him, and in wishing to 
amalgamate in himself these two personalities, breaking 
moral ties like the first, and seducing the multitudes like 
the second, he succeeded in becoming only an infatuated 
impostor. Even so, he cut a figure, for there are great 
Aristides, and small Aristides, — Cincinnati two to the pound, 
three to the quarter of a pound, and eight to the jartaa , 
which is the way they sell prickly pears in Andalusia. 

This revolutionary prickly pear did not get from the 
aristocratic pine on which he was born to the plebeian fig- 
tree upon which he blossomed either by dramatic conditions 
or tragical evolutions; he got there naturally and gently, 
like the pus behind the swelling; behind the pus, gangrene. 
He came softly, gliding along the voluptuous declivity 
which leads from pleasure to vice, vice to aberration, aber- 
ration to disgust, disenchantment, and the frightful void of 
the heart which produces vertigo in the head, and precipi- 
tates a man headlong into all sorts of follies and infamies, 
in search of new pleasures to awaken his blunted sensuality, 
and of unknown impressions to satiate the voracity of his 
vitiated concupiscence. 

There is nothing more dangerous for a man than to pass 
in a short time through all the illusions of a lifetime ; and 
Jacob, with that eagerness for enjoyment which character- 
izes society of the present day, which fears to put off till 
to-morrow the pleasure which it can enjoy to-day, passing 
from infancy to decrepit old age, precipitating age and sup- 
pressing youth, if by youth is meant the happy age in which 
noble impulses spring from the heart, and generous ideas 
surge in the mind, constituting later on, when solidified, 
great and noble characters, — Jacob, as we have said, had 
run this long journey in less than thirty years. 


144 


CURRITA 


At the age of fifteen, no longer subject to tutors and 
teachers, he was the most gallant sietemesino 1 who ever 
aspired to be shaved, and lead cotillons in the great Court 
drawing-rooms. At twenty he was a successful Don Juan 
of bad reputation, who paraded his scandalous adventures 
in the Veloz Club. At twenty-five, he was an aristocratic 
profligate, elegant and fashionable, who retreated neither 
before a duel, nor a steeple-chase, nor a stake of twenty- 
thousand dollars, and made away with his wife’s millions 
with the same facility with which the magician’s enchanted 
wand makes treasures, hidden and guarded by gnomes and 
salamanders, flow from the centre of the earth. At thirty, 
he had seen, like Solomon, cuncta quce Jiunt sub sole , but 
did not understand like him that all was but vanity and 
affliction of spirit ; on the contrary, he wept like Alexander 
because there was no other world of pleasures to enjoy, 
while, his heart dry, his intelligence blunted by the prema- 
ture unfolding of the passions, and his home ruined by 
reckless prodigalities, he was a rotten fruit which had never 
yet ripened, a man in the flower of his age with no object 
in life, a worthless ruin of pleasure , and impiety, who did 
not question the eternal, like Hamlet, but crept through all 
the corners of the earth, seeking a reservoir of unknown 
pleasures in which to plunge and wallow and enjoy! 
Through curiosity aud ennui, to amuse himself, and to find 
in the gloom of mystery something unknown which would 
resolve itself into pleasure and money, he became a politician. 
Garibaldi initiated him into the secret lodges of Milan, and 
Prim introduced him in England into the plot which great 
traitors were contriving against the Spanish throne. 

The Revolution triumphed, and to the agitated emotions 
of the conspirator, succeeded, in Jacob, the alluring intoxi- 
cation of triumph, the cynical rapacities of a Roman 
praetor, and the noisy deifications of pasteboard arches and 
paper lanterns, when, won over by his verbosity, stupid 
mobs carried him on their shoulders, frivolous and effemi- 
1 Born at seven months. — Tr. 


CURRITA 


145 


nate masses praised him for his elegance and beauty, and 
promised to carry him to Congress to defend from its 
benches the popular government, — him, the proud aristocrat, 
renegade in name only, who laughed at them, calling them 
clowns, ignoramuses, and stupid bourgeois, and who, when 
they had done shaking hands with him, hastened to rid him- 
self of that insupportable “ stench of the canaille ” by 
washing himself with soap and perfume ! Very soon a 
black, gloomy parenthesis opened in his life, before which 
even slander quailed terrified, for fear of slipping into a 
pool of blood. 

One day, the twenty-seventh of December, a shot in the 
Calle Turca revealed a piece of the most audacious temer- 
ity which ever impelled the Revolution. General Prim had 
been assassinated, and his intimate friend and standard- 
bearer, the' Marquis of Sabadell, already spoken of for the 
portfolio of the Interior, disappeared suddenly from the 
Court at the very time the false news was circulated that 
the General’s wounds were not mortal, and that terrible 
revelations had escaped him. Prim died, nevertheless, on 
the thirtieth, carrying with him to the tomb the key of the 
mystery ; and three months afterwards the “ Gazette ” pub- 
lished a royal decree, appointing the Marquis of Sabadell 
Minister Plenipotentiary from the Spanish Court to Con- 
stantinople. “I am convinced,” wrote the new minister to 
the President of the Council, “ that my natural inclinations 
are for the Oriental life, and I place all my illusions in 
Cairo, Bagdad, Ispahan, and Constantinople.” 

The result of these illusions was not long in presenting 
itself. One morning the Cadi’s wife, Sarahi, did not appear 
at her gilded casement, to gaze at the azure mountains of 
Asia, and the door of her kiosk remained closed. It was 
whispered in the palace that the night before a groan had 
been heard there, and two shadows, which lost themselves 
in the labyrinth of dark corridors, were seen carrying a 
black object. The sentinel of the tower of the Sea of 
Marmora, had heard a sinister splash in the water. 

10 


146 


CURRITA 


In the morning, on the other side of the Bosphorus, the 
corpse of a strangled eunuch was found. From the Spanish 
Legation on the Pera heights, one could see floating upon 
the limpid blue of the waves his long dark cloak girdled by 
a whip of hippopotamus leather, the stigma of his class, 
which had served as a halter. The minister could not see 
it, for he had left Constantinople that night in so great 
haste that he carried as baggage only a small valise ; and 
with this valise we have seen Jacob arrive at the Grand 
Hotel, after marauding for two months through the gloomi- 
est lodges and most elegant gambling-houses of Italy. The 
fugitive minister of Constantinople found himself lodged on 
the fourth floor of the hotel, in a room at twelve francs 
per day, sufficiently luxurious for one who only possessed in 
the world a debt of three millions at 15 per cent, and 
extremely shabby for what his Excellency Sr. Don Jacob 
Tellez-Ponce Melgarejo, Marquis consort of . Sabadell, 
deemed indispensable to his rank. By the light of a copper 
candelabrum, which was burning on one end of the mantel- 
piece, Jacob devoured the Spanish newspapers, full of the 
new political change which had taken place in Spain, and 
quoting the comments of the French people, their prognos- 
tications and opinions. Frequent exclamations, and even 
vulgar words escaped him, revealing in him that silent 
anger which great annoyance awakens in a violent mind. 
He finally threw aside the papers, furiously irritated for an 
instant, and clenching his fists with rage. For a long time 
he sat silent, buried in the depths of an arm-chair, with his 
mouth contracted, a frown on his brow, and his eyes fixed 
on the fire in the grate, whose mobile flames lent a red 
lustre to his countenance. One would have said he was 
meditating a crime, and also that he had decided upon it 
when, giving a powerful blow with his fist upon the arm of 
the chair, he suddenly arose. The mirror which adorned 
the mantel-piece at this instant reflected his distorted 
countenance, and, upon seeing himself thus photographed, 
he was seized with one of those solitary, puerile frights 
which cut audacity’s gigantic wings with a single stroke. 


CURRITA 


147 


He glanced about him ; in the alcove lined with dark 
paper, a curtain moved softly, impelled by the air. Turn- 
ing around, he threw himself upon it quickly, drew it back, 
and then, laughing at his infantile fears, went towards a 
large walnut bureau in the farther end of the room. On 
top of it the small valise lay open and extended, and in the 
top bureau drawer, which was locked, and the key of which 
he had in his pocket, was his travelling note-book. He 
took from it the large official letter, and laid it upon a 
night table in the centre of the room. 

At this moment steps resounded in the corridor outside, 
and Jacob ran quickly to the door on tiptoe, listened a 
moment, and with as little noise as possible turned the 
key in the lock. He then selected from a small travelling 
toilet-case a tiny instrument with tortoise-shell handle like 
a nail file, with a very fine, sharp blade, and set to work 
most carefully to heat it in the flame of the fire. 

Still he hesitated a moment, glancing again in all direc- 
tions, and listening attentively to the distant murmurs of 
the Boulevard, — blasts of folly and pleasure which scaled 
the windows. He finally decided. With great dexterity he 
introduced the heated blade beneath the seal of the official 
document, and, turning it slowly around, loosened the wax 
so entirely and so intactly that it could be stuck on again 
without the slightest sign of fracture. Afterwards he 
placed it, with great precaution, upon a sheet of white paper 
on a corner of the night table. 

The mysterious document was open, and Jacob, with 
aridity not exempt from fear, began to inspect it. Inside 
was a letter in Italian, not very long, in the same large and 
running handwriting as the address, and signed by Victor 
Emmanuel. There were also two other large blank en- 
velopes, sealed with the device of the Free-masons, a com- 
pass and a square crossed in the form of a pentagraph, 
upon green sealing-wax. 

Jacob turned them over on all sides, without the slightest 
sign of surprise, and with the same dexterity and swiftness 


148 


CURRITA 


as before, pulled off the seals from them both. The first 
contained a large sheet of paper, very closely written, its 
paragraphs in the form of articles marked with Roman 
numbers, which were also jotted down on the margin, in 
the same large handwriting of the letter and the address. 
Jacob read all attentively, but without surprise, as if the 
subjects of which they treated were known to him. Only 
upon perusing the last articles, in which the name of the 
Marquis of Sabadell was mentioned, a jesting smile flitted 
across his lips, while he murmured : — 

“ Ah, rogue ! ” 

Finally came the ton of the last package, which was the 
most voluminous. He opened it with great circumspection, 
as an edge of the envelope had become fast, and immedi- 
ately two other blank documents fell out, and also a third, 
upon which was written a name that made Jacob start 
and mutter one of those gross exclamations common in 
moments of anger or surprise even to persons who are 
supposed to be cultured. He was stupefied; his heart beat, 
his knees shook under him, and he turned the papers over 
and over again with the timorous eagerness, and pleasurable 
terror, if it is possible to feel such, of the weak mannikin 
who suddenly finds within his hands the fabulous riches of 
a formidable giant, which he must not let escape him. 
Twice he glanced furtively towards the door, as if he feared 
to see it open, in spite of the key which fastened it on the 
inside. 

He had here a veritable arsenal of compromising letters 
and papers, most important on account of the names which 
signed them, and perfectly arranged and classified, in a sort 
of enclosed memorandum, in which a very facile pen had 
stamped interesting data and important observations. It 
was a treasure of great value and a formidable lever, which, 
well managed, could in a short time ruin all the revolu- 
tionary politicians who honey-combed Spain. They were 
letters of exchange payable at sight, which any one could 
collect in influence or in money. 


CURRITA 


149 


Jacob devoured them all, line for line, and word for word, 
passing through all the emotions of surprise, fright, rancor, 
hope and suspicion, plunging both hands in his curly head of 
hair, and pressing the cranium as. if to prevent his attention 
from being distracted, while grasping some of these papers 
between his trembling fingers, as if he wished to feel they 
were his own, that they belonged to him alone, and that no 
one in the world had a right to deprive him of them. At 
times he stopped and closed his eyes for an instant while 
his respiration seemed forced, and he breathed with diffi- 
culty. When he had finished reading he was pale, and the 
vague and timid look with which he glanced about him 
expressed the mistrust and fear which makes every crimi- 
nal believe, even in the midst of a desert, that prying and 
scrutinizing eyes are upon him. 

He then arose and began to pace up and down, making 
gestures of fear and joy, childish and insane pirouettes; 
standing before the mirror as if he wished to question his 
own image ; stopping before the candelabrum to catch the 
drops of sperm which trickled down the rose-colored candles, 
and squeezing them between his fingers into balls, with 
a reflective, imposing, and menacing attitude. Presently 
the light seemed to annoy him, and he blew out all the 
candles with a breath. Immediately afterwards he threw 
the window wide open and leaned out. The cold was 
intense, but the ever crowding Paris multitude defied it, 
thronging the boulevards between torrents of light without 
stopping a moment, and never resting, — like a reprobate 
soul condemned by God to an eternal feast. 

Among the eddies of this multitude and the thousand 
various hues of lights of all colors and reflections which 
made the boulevards resemble the fantastic scene of a fairy 
dance, Jacob saw only one thought and one plan, whose 
first outlines became more and more twisted at every instant, 
crowded out of place by opposite ideas, unexpected incon- 
veniences and well grounded fears, which made him hesitate, 
groaning with vexation like a capricious child deprived of 


150 


CURRITA 


a sweetmeat, or roaring with rage like a caged lion, whose 
prey is snatched from him. And all was caused at the 
thought of having to return these documents, of not being 
able to keep them to use to his own advantage, and of hav- 
ing to be the mere instrument instead of the principal actor. 
For how could he reply to the terrible proprietor’s reclama- 
tions? How avoid the suspicion of this robbery, done by 
a burglar doubtless, but a robbery none the less. How, in 
fine, prevent the terrible and inevitable vengeance which 
would follow the discovery? 

Among the thousand ridiculous masquerades at which he 
had laughed so many times in the lodges, something terrible 
and menacing then stood out in his imagination, which took 
a sensible form in that mysterious word, which he had 
always pronounced mockingly and which he now recalled 
with fear, — 

“ Neckan ! ” “Vengeance ! ” 

It was necessary to act with prudence, to reflect and 
weigh, measure and decide without delay. As if he hoped 
to find in movement some of those ideas which suddenly 
occur to one upon turning a corner, or which gush forth in 
the midst of a stream, he rushed out into the street, after 
first securing all the papers in the bureau under lock and 
key. He walked along the Boulevard des Capucines, turn- 
ing into Boulevard de la Madeleine, presently traversing the 
entire Royal Avenue, and afterwards wandering through 
a labyrinth of unknown streets, returning to the hotel at 
two o’clock in the morning, exhausted, worn out, without 
having thought or decided upon anything. For Jacob was 
one of those irresolute, as well as audacious men, in whom 
reflection, far from smoothing the way for the under- 
standing which plans, or holding by the bridle the passion- 
ate will which runs riot, only succeeds in entangling the 
first in intricate imaginings and in exasperating the second, 
until suddenly and without warning it breaks loose at last, 
when the time is least opportune and prudence least advises 
it. His was one of those characters which in general are 


CURRITA 


151 


impetuous and impatient, acting more from impulse than 
from reason, and taking for realities the perspectives of the 
imagination, upon which they erect strong castles whose 
only cement is air. 

On the staircase, clinging to the balustrade, an old man 
was going up limping, enveloped in a long and ample 
mackintosh, capable of preserving an Arctic explorer from 
the cold. This apparition seemed to Sabadell to be Uncle 
Frasquito in person, and he began to run quickly up the 
steps with the idea of overtaking him. But the old man, 
upon perceiving that he was being followed, ducked his 
head in his great fur collar, and speedily concealing in the 
pocket of his great-coat something which he held in his 
hand, promptly entered the room contiguous to Jacob’s. 
The latter started, surprised and suspicious, and doubting 
that it was Uncle Frasquito, also entered his own room. 
At one end of it was a little door cut in a partition divid- 
ing into two one single room, and secured with a double 
bolt on either side. Jacob approached it on tiptoe, and 
listened attentively. He heard his neighbor strike a match 
and lock the hall door. He then heard approaching the 
frail, little door, soft steps which the carpet did not alto- 
gether smother, and a slight sliding of the bolt on the 
opposite side. Startled, Jacob stepped back, scarcely draw- 
ing his breath, and casting a rapid glance at the bureau 
which contained the papers, drew out from his pocket a six- 
barrelled revolver. His neighbor was spying upon him, and 
in his heated imagination he already saw the traitor Mason, 
with the poniards of all the lodges of Italy directed at him, 
resolved to reclaim their precious deposit. Meanwhile the 
bolt creaked anew, his neighbor was either drawing it out 
or securing it, and as it was natural to suppose it drawn, 
he might well suspect he intended to try the door. The 
latter, varnished with great care, did not contain the slightest 
hole or crack through which one could see. 

The light steps resounded again, retreating, and Jacob 
drew nearer with his revolver aimed, and his ear attentive. 


152 


CURRITA 


Presently came a suspicious cough; it was not the dainty 
perfumed and cadenced cough of Uncle Frasquito, but the 
asthmatic cough of an old man, which, like certain peculiar 
' creakings, predict in old houses their speedy ruin. Another 
strange noise increased his uneasiness. He heard a slight 
metallic silvery knock, similar to that of a dagger’s blade, 
grating with precaution against a crystal or marble surface ; 
and afterwards at intervals and for a long time, a muffled 
noise of something being rubbed with rapidity and dex- 
terity. Perhaps the old man was sharpening the point; 
perhaps he was poisoning it! 

For a while there was complete silence. Then the light 
steps were heard moving about in different directions, they 
turned again towards the door, the friction of his suspicious, 
spying neighbor being heard behind it, and later on, as the 
hotel clock struck three, a thud was heard similar to that of 
a heavy body which falls upon a spring mattress, and after- 
wards a prolonged sigh and yawn, which set Jacob at his 
ease. No one- who is going to commit murder begins by 
yawning. 

Tranquil now, although still suspicious, he laid the revol- 
ver on the table and, with the delight of the miser who re- 
views his treasures, lost himself again in the reading and 
examination of the papers. Suddenly he sprang again from 
his seat startled, and grasped his revolver. In the adjoining 
room had resounded a violent leap, precipitate footsteps, 
various knockings on the door, and then an infirm and agon- 
izing voice, which shrieked out in Spanish : u Help ! Help ! ” 
Then he heard a groan, and then again the voice cried in 
French : — 

4 ‘ Au secours ! Au secours ! ” 


CURRITA 


153 


CHAPTER XV 

Uncle Frasquito returned to the Grand Hotel that night in 
an extremely bad humor. He had endured for two hours the 
aristocratic tedium of the Cercle de 1’ Union, the masculine 
sanctum sanctorum of the Faubourg Saint-Germain, to which 
so few strangers can gain an easy entree , and which is, for 
that very reason, the coveted object of all the illustrious 
fops. Our neighbor’s chicken always seems a turkey to us, 
and to yawn in company with the Montmorencys and the 
Rohans is not without its charm, even for those who are 
accustomed to yawn in unison with the Osunas and the 
Medinacelis. Uncle Frasquito was wont to complain fre- 
quently of tooth-ache, and he took advantage of this occa- 
sion to display his whole jaw with a dolorous gesture, 
exposing to view a magnificent set of teeth, clean, white, and 
even as the keys of a piano, for which Ernest, the famous den- 
tist of Napoleon III., had charged him ten thousand francs. 
He then deplored having to suffer such acute pains with such 
a sound set of teeth, and took very good care not to add 
that these same pains had their origin in a certain overlooked 
jaw- tooth, his only real one, existing there in the confines of 
his gums like a mile-stone in the middle of a desert. 

Upon his exit from the Cercle, the cold air caused a slight 
throb in the fossil tooth, and, startled, he hastened his steps 
to reach the hotel as quickly as possible, in order to take 
gargles of elixir which would save him from a sleepless night. 
When half-way up the stairway he glanced about in all 
directions very cautiously, and not perceiving a living soul 
who could surprise his secret, quickly took out the set of 
teeth and wrapped them in his handkerchief. This relieved 
him immensely, but disfigured him so that his face looked 
like a burlesque caricature of itself. Uncle Frasquito’s room 
was on the fourth floor, and upon reaching the second land- 
ing he noticed with surprise that some one was following him 


154 


CURRITA 


up the stairs. He quickened his pace, startled, and glancing 
out of the corner of his eye discovered the Marquis of Sabadell, 
who was coming up the steps two at a time, doubtless trying 
to overtake him. Great heavens ! what a hurry he was in ! 
He buried his head up to the eyebrows in his great fur collar, 
quickly put the set of teeth in his pocket, and started on a 
run until he reached the door of his room, breathless. 

“ Perverrse fate ! ” 

Sabadell followed him without stopping, and finally paused 
at the door of the adjoining room without daring to approach 
him, but looking at him from head to foot, amazed, attentive, 
and suspicious. 

“ He has seen everything,” thought Uncle Frasquito, 
‘and to-morrow all Paris will know I have no teeth!” 

Oppressed with this idea, he entered his room hurriedly, 
struck a light, and ran to secure the little communicating 
door on the inside, fearful lest his importunate neighbor 
should spy out his secrets. The latter, in fact, seemed to 
harbor perverse intentions, for Uncle Frasquito distinctly 
heard from the other side of the partition strange noises, 
which disturbed him and made him nervous. The little door, 
however, did not offer the slightest treacherous crevice 
through which one could peep, and this somewhat relieved 
him. He took his gargles of elixir, the tooth-ache vanishing 
completely. He then began to clean his set of teeth, rubbing 
them with a silver screw-handled brush, which, striking 
against the glass or marble of the wash-stand, produced a 
metallic sound. This operation finished, Uncle Frasquito 
began to relieve himself of his accessory components in 
order to retire ; but beforehand, on tiptoe and in his shirt- 
sleeves, he made a third exploring tour to the suspicious little 
door. His neighbor seemed quiet, and Uncle Frasquito be- 
gan his return trip, taking long, silent strides and humming 
very softly, with childish satisfaction, the strain from the 
Daughters of Eve : — 

f< Tranquil is the mart ; 

Not even a mosquito is heard.” 


CURRITA 


155 


With great precaution he took off his perfumed wig, and 
quickly put on a nightcap of pyramidal form, terminating 
with a small tassel, a simple and majestic casque cfc m£cAe, 
like those recommended by Jer6me Paturot to his clients, 
as being worn by Victor Hugo. It is well known that the 
bonnet de nuit is a venerable social institution among the 
French, and levels all heads, as in former times they were 
levelled by the knife of the guillotine. Philip Augustus and 
the last of the Albigenses looked as much alike in the shadow 
of the former as did Robespierre and Louis XVI., centuries 
afterwards, beneath the knife of the latter. 

Uncle Frasquito took a good half hour entirely to undo 
himself, and when finally enveloped in his long night-shirt 
he let himself fall upon his bed, one would have said that 
the Uncle Frasquito, about to retire, was the cube root of 
the Uncle Frasquito who, padded and made up, exhibited 
himself everywhere. By the light of the candle which was 
burning upon the night table, he began to read, according to 
his custom, one of Vizconde d’ Arlincourt’s novels, in order 
to sooth himself to sleep. He liked the romantic style, and 
sometimes would pass whole nights, like a lad of fifteen, 
commiserating the sorrows of some Clarissa, or participating 
in the endearments of some Adolphus. His first sleepy nod 
made him knock his nose against the night table, and the 
book fell upon the floor. He leaned over, however, to pick it 
up, as the chapter was interesting and he wished to finish it. 

Shortly afterwards a strong odor of burning linen reached 
his nostrils, causing him to sit up with a start, fearing the 
risks of a conflagration. He glanced about in all directions ; 
nothing could he discover anywhere of the devouring ele- 
ment. Nevertheless, he continued to inhale the offensive 
odor, which continued with increasing pungency. He thrust 
his head outside of the bed curtains, looked under the 
pillow, between the blankets, and in the china match-safe on 
the night table. Nothing, absolutely nothing ! Perhaps 
some article of clothing had fallen in the fireplace, — a sock, 
or a handkerchief. 


156 


CURRITA 


Uncle Frasquito, very much alarmed, sprang out of bed 
and ran to the fireplace. Nothing ! The fire was burning 
moderately, and the thick metal fender which enclosed it 
prevented any coal from escaping. 

“ How singularrr ! ” 

Perhaps it was in his neighbor’s room, or in the corridor 
outside ; or perhaps the inflammable miasms of some large fire 
on the boulevards had penetrated through the walls. Uncle 
Frasquito ran first to the outside door, then to the communi- 
cating door, and lastly to the window, his nostrils distended 
and sniffing continually, without discovering the slightest 
indication of fire, but perceiving that the more he moved 
from one side to the other, the more marked became the 
alarming odor. 

“ But in Heaven’s name, what is burning? If it does not 
seem like some trick of magic!” thought Uncle Frasquito, 
standing in the middle of the room in his night-shirt, his 
arms crossed, his neck distended, and directing to the four 
corners of the apartment his dilated nostrils and wide-open 
eyes. 

It seemed to him then that he felt an alarming heat on 
the top of his head, and he glanced up at the ceiling. 
Nothing there either ! He turned around rapidly, and a cry 
of fright escaped his lips upon seeing himself face to face 
with a looking-glass. In it was reflected his eccentric figure, 
enveloped in the long robe de nuit and crowned with the 
nightcap, on the top of which was sparkling a tiny red 
flame ! Great heavens ! the fire was there ! 

Fear never reasons, and the fright which Uncle Frasquito 
got prevented him from understanding that the little tassel 
of his cap had caught fire from the candle when he leaned 
over to pick up the unfortunate book. The poor old man 
then completely lost his head, rushed to the electric bell, and 
ran to the door calling for help, lastly pounding on Jacob’s 
door crying afresh : — 

“ Au secours ! Au secours ! ” 

The little door was then violently thrust open, and Jacob 


CURRITA 


157 


appeared in it, revolver in hand. It was impossible for him 
to recognize Uncle Frasquito in this apparition, and Jacob 
did not realize who it was until the phantom, extending its 
open arms towards him, exclaimed in anguish : — 

“Jacob! Jacob!” 

The latter, without understanding anything as yet, as a 
preliminary proceeding gave him a slap on the head, and the 
burning cap fell to the floor, leaving exposed a bare, clean 
skull, white and relucent as a winter melon. All this was 
a grotesque, farcical scene which occurred in a moment, and 
yet this small and ridiculous incident of life sealed Jacob’s 
fate forever. 

The servant on that floor, answering the bell call, knocked 
at the door of the room; Uncle Frasquito then saw the 
absurdity of the situation, and more and more agitated 
quickly put on his wig, enveloped himself in a fur cloak, put 
in his teeth, and took refuge in Jacob’s room, saying to the 
latter, in a voice half crying and half supplicating : — 

“You answer, Jacob ! Don’t let them see me!” 

It was now that suddenly, from amidst the thick mist of 
fears and perplexities which enveloped Jacob’s mind like 
an ocean fog, paralyzing his natural audacity, a luminous 
spot broke forth. Uncle Frasquito was rich, influential, had 
the entree everywhere, and this ridiculous adventure would 
put him completely in his power, taking into consideration 
the effeminate weaknesses of the presumptuous old man. 
The crooked lines of his plan at once began to straighten 
themselves out, and an idea formed itself in his mind, vague 
as }mt and indecisive, but already visible like the cocoon 
of the silk-worm through its silky floss. 

He dismissed the servant, excusing Uncle Frasquito by 
saying he had had a false alarm. The still burning cap he 
extinguished in a basin full of water, opened the window 
a little to renovate the air, and returned promptly to his room, 
where Uncle Frasquito was awaiting him. The latter, calm 
and already at his ease, was ensconced in the arm-chair 
close to the fire. When Jacob entered he was examining 


158 


CURRITA 


attentively, with the air of a connoisseur, the three wax 
seals torn from the letters by the traitor Mason, and left in 
his fright upon the table. The papers were well secured be- 
neath lock and key, in the bureau at the end of the room. 

4 ‘What a senseless fright!” exclaimed Uncle Frasquito 
upon seeing him ; and wishing to lessen the absurdity of 
the scene by not giving it any importance, he immediately 
added : — 

44 What seals are these? I do not know them.” 

Uncle Frasquito collected diplomatic seals, as we have 
already seen, and had an album of curious samples, which 
he had bought at very high prices. Some days before, he 
had paid two hundred francs for an antique wax seal of 
Yakoub Almanzor, which had stamped upon it in Arabic 
letters this beautiful device : — 

44 Let God judge Yakoub, as Yakoub has judged.” 

44 The crrown is Italian : rrroyal crrown upon the Savoy an 
crross,” pursued Uncle Frasquito. 44 1 have one of Victor 
Emmanuel’s which is identical ; but these I do not know.” 

Jacob, embarrassed, upon seeing in Uncle Frasquito’s 
hands this flagrant proof of his attempted crime, did not 
answer, and the old man, turning the two green seals over 
on all sides, asked again : — 

44 Whose are they? Do you want them? ” 

Jacob, more and more embarrassed, in order to say some- 
thing answered : — 

44 Can you not guess ? ” 

4 4 Ah! indeed!” suddenly exclaimed Uncle Frasquito; 
44 I should think so ! The compass and the square, with the 
little branch of acacia in the middle. How stupid of me! 
This indeed smacks strongly of lodges! ” 

Jacob burst out laughing forcedly, and Uncle Frasquito, 
with the ardor of an amateur who stumbles across a good 
thing, added enthusiastically : — 

44 Give them to me, Jacob? I have none, and they are 
most curious. I suppose you have no use for them. At 
least I shall take one.” 


CURRITA 


159 


A most strange and at the same time a most common 
thing in characters like Jacob’s! For four hours he had 
been battling with himself, without daring to decide upon 
anything, and suddenly in a moment, with only six words, 
he burnt his ships behind him and sealed his fate. 

44 Take all three, if you like,” he said shrugging his 
shoulders. 

Alea jacta est ! The seals once given up, it was impossi- 
ble to restore them to their places, and return the papers, 
keeping a copy of them, as had been his first intention ; and 
he was now obliged to run the risks of this audacious crime, 
it being already too late to retreat. Uncle Frasquito did 
not wait for him to repeat his offer ; he wrapped the seals 
most carefully in the paper in which he found them and put 
them quickly in his pocket, as if he feared Jacob might 
withdraw his gift. The latter watched him with a strange 
smile, and when the terrible bit of paper vanished in the 
old man’s pocket, murmured in the Turkish language : — 

44 Olsum ! ” 1 

Then, rising quickly, he proposed to Uncle Frasquito that 
they order a bowl of hot punch. The latter excused him- 
self under pretext of the lateness of the hour; but Jacob, 
with affectionate and expressive words and a certain melan- 
choly air which sat very well upon his manly beauty, urged 
him to stay. Would he deny him this moment of relaxation? 
He was so sad, so dejected, so alone in the world. 

Uncle Frasquito looked at him amazed, and curiosity, which 
is the most powerful force of resistance known, fixed him to 
his seat. Perhaps he was going to clear up the mysterious 
x of his incognito appearance, which they had all been dis- 
cussing that afternoon on the hotel terrace, and which Jacob’s 
untimely presence in Paris, abandoning his legation in Con- 
stantinople, had called forth. Uncle Frasquito remembered 
having learned in the Imperial College, some fifty years 
before, the following from Horace : 4 4 Fecundi calices qui 


1 Amen. — Tr. 


160 


CURRITA 


non fecere disertum ! ” and the punch was accepted with 
suppressed enthusiasm. 

Horace was not mistaken, after all. Jacob began his con- 
fidences inter pocula, speaking slowly, in a very low voice 
and at intervals, like a man oppressed with trouble, who 
distils through his lips, drop by drop, the bitterness which 
inundates his soul. He was crushed with a weight of re- 
morse, a frightful catastrophe, of which he had been the in- 
voluntary cause, obliging him to flee from Constantinople 
with his heart broken and his conscience stained with blood. 
Uncle Frasquito gave a start, opening wide his small eyes, 
and Jacob silently bowed his head between his hands, look- 
ing fixedly at his empty cup. 

4 4 Why, man ! this is most serious ! ” murmured the old 
gentleman, frightened ; and as he saw that the other pro- 
longed his silence, he aroused him by saying: — 

44 It is doubtless a question of petticoats.” 

44 Or of pantaloons, which is the same thing in Turkey,” 
replied Jacob. 

Then suddenly pulling himself together with the violent 
effort of a man who casts far from him a weight which is 
crushing him, he related in all its details the terrible history 
of the Cadi’s wife, Sarahi. Uncle Frasquito listened with his 
mouth open, gradually shrinking into the arm-chair and con- 
vinced of his own littleness, as the novelty and the terrible 
nature of the situation made a giant in his imagination of 
the hero of this legendary adventure, whose first confidant 
he was, and whose future chronicler he hoped to be. 

At the thought of being the first to cast to the four winds 
of publicity this tragic adventure, Uncle Frasquito began to 
swell in the arm-chair, until he was shoulder to shoulder with 
the hero, as the shadow vies with the body, the echo with 
the music, Homer with Achilles, and the immortal Virgil 
with the divine JEneas. And to think it was already too 
late to run from house to house that very night to tell the 
news ! 

Jacob read in Uncle Frasquito’s babieca face what he was 


CURRITA 


161 


thinking, and could not suppress a smile of triumph upon 
seeing his first purpose accomplished. On the following day 
the history of the Cadi’s wife would be the talk of all Paris, 
gloriously justifying his flight from Constantinople, and sur- 
rounding him with that aureole of novelty, of absurdity, and 
of the impossible, which is the highest pedestal upon which 
the public of illustrious simpletons who live in search of 
novelty can place their idols of the day. 

Well did Jacob know this public, and also that a single 
day was sufficient and more than sufficient to establish him- 
self firmly upon this new basis, on which his plans were 
grounded. He wished, however, to make things sure, and 
rising without saying a word went to the little open valise 
on the bureau, fumbled about a bit, and finally threw upon 
the night table in front of Uncle Frasquito a small object, 
saying : — 

“ The only souvenir of my oriental idyl ! ” 

It was a kind of slipper, but a slipper remarkable for its 
small size, — of white satin, with tip embroidered in gold, and 
laces of swans’ feathers fastened with emeralds ; an artistic 
treasure, cut without doubt to fit the foot of a fairy, and 
made rather to hold jewels and trinkets on a lady’s toilet- 
table than to confine a human foot. Uncle Frasquito was 
astonished, feeling himself become very small again, like the 
little man Charles Stratton, who could bathe in a punch- 
bowl ; and pictured Jacob as high up as the Napoleon of the 
Venddme column, who from his great height could only see 
the tops of men’s heads. An irresistible desire took posses- 
sion of his soul, but stopped on the tip of his tongue, timid 
and respectful. He would have given his most precious 
jewel, even his set of teeth made by Ernest, to possess for 
only twenty-four hours this souvenir of the Cadi’s wife, to 
pass it around through all the drawing-rooms and show it to 
all those most interested, thus acquitting himself of a bout 
de rdle in this novel tragedy, which the following day would 
be the theme par excellence of every conversation. All Paris 
would hasten to prostrate itself before the exotic slipper, 

11 


u 


162 


CURRITA 


and be would be the chief priest to exhibit the relic to the 
crowd of novelty seekers. And as if Jacob read in his face 
this desire, and from the height of the column of honor 
upon which the old man had placed him deigned to grant it, 
he presently said : — 

“Uncle Frasquito, do me a favor.” 

“What?” 

“ Keep that slipper.” 

“ What do you mean, man ! ” 

“ Yes! yes! Take it, and never let me see it again. For 
me it is a sad souvenir, and for you a curious bibelot which 
you can keep on your dressing-table ! ” 

“ But my dearrr Jacob! I don’t know if I should — ” 

“ Yes, you should, man, of course. Here you have Cinde- 
rella’s slipper ; the day you find a wife whom it will fit, that 
day you can return it to me.” 

“ Then it is mine forever,” replied Uncle Frasquito, en- 
chanted. “I do not imagine that anywhere, but in Turkey, 
women’s shoes are made of lily leaves.” 

Uncle Frasquito at last bade Jacob good-night with the 
greatest demonstrations of affection, and no sooner found 
himself alone in his room than he began to inspect closely 
the little slipper, concluding by putting it up to his nose. 
He withdrew it instantly, however, with a gesture of disgust, 
not finding there that suave Smyrna perfume, mixture of 
aloes and incense, which he imagined must be left wherever 
the foot of an odalisque might choose to repose. Far from 
this, it smelt badly, very badly, and Uncle Frasquito screwed 
up his mouth and turned up his nose ; it had a very strange 
smell, like a mixture of untanned hide and half-rotten paste. 

He then examined the sole, and it was as clean and new 
as if it had never been brought in contact with the floor, nor 
suffered the slightest pressure even of the nimblest swallow. 
Hum! What if, after all, this Jacob was a first-class im- 
postor, who had deceived him with a string of lies ? And 
cogitating thus, Uncle Frasquito remained for a long time in 
a brown study, looking attentively at the sole of the slipper, 


CURRJTA 


163 


as if he would question the Sphinx. Finally he shrugged his 
shoulders. After all, even though the relic should prove a 
false one, and should have as much to do with the Cadi’s 
wife as his trousers had to do with the Grand Turk’s, still he 
would lose nothing by it. “ Se non e vero e ben trovato.” 
He had seen greater deceptions pass muster throughout the 
world ! 

Suddenly he remembered something of the utmost impor- 
tance, and hastened to Jacob’s door, giving discreet little 
taps. The latter, with his jesting smile stereotyped on his 
lips, was occupied at *that moment in secreting in the farthest 
corner of the valise the companion slipper to the one presented 
to Uncle Frasquito. The history of the Cadi’s wife was true ; 
but the slipper he had bought at the Grand Bazar through a 
mere caprice, from one of those old Turks of impassible 
countenance, glass eyes, enormous turbans, and orange- 
colored caftans, who even now in modern Constantinople 
recall to mind the times of Bayaceto and Soliman the Mag- 
nificent. Uncle Frasquito poked his head through the door, 
saying timidly : — 

“ Jacob ! Jacob ! I beg pardon, but I think it is better to 
say nothing of what has happened.” 

“ And what is that ? ” 

“ Why, man, the fire, and the cap.” 

“ Ah ! Of course ; I had forgotten ail about it.” 

‘ ‘ Quite natural ! A most absurd affair ! but, you know, 
people are so foolish ; they laugh so at everything and always 
throw one into ridicule.” 

“ Be easy, man, be easy. To whom should I repeat such 
follies?” 

“Good-night, then, Jacob. Excuse me. If anything 
occurs, knock on the partition. I sleep like a bird. In this 
I am like an old man.” 

Uncle Frasquito finally retired very well satisfied, thinking 
of the morrow, but upon extinguishing the light, this time 
with great precaution, he had a cold chill of fright. It seemed 
to him that the shadows in the middle of the room were surg- 


164 


CURRITA 


ing, and floating upon them was the strangled eunuch with 
the halter around his neck, his eyes starting out of their 
sockets, his step slow, and his hand extended cold and stiff, 
which, gradually stretching towards him, pulled him by the 
nose. 

Uncle Frasquito covered his head with the sheet, closed 
his eyes tight, and crossed himself hurriedly three times. 


CHAPTER XVI 

The contest of feminine beauty which first took place in Spa, 
and afterwards in Buda-Pesth, awakened in the Countess of 
Albornoz the happy idea of making the reputation of her 
own beauty circulate through the whole of artistic and civil- 
ized Europe. It was a real misfortune that she should have 
been born an Albornoz, as, had her name been less illustrious, 
she would have gone at once to the capital of the ancient 
kingdom of the Estebans and Vladimirs, to dispute the prize 
of beauty with Cornelia Szekely, the laurelled Hungarian. 

Not being able, therefore, to win it in person, the idea took 
possession of her to gain it in effigy, to accomplish which she 
had her portrait painted by Bonnat, the masterpiece to be 
sent afterwards from exposition to exposition, so that through 
means of photography and the engraver, not a corner of the 
earth should be left in ignorance of the fact that the Countess 
of Albornoz had, as Diogenes expressed it, soft-boiled eyes. 
Nevertheless, she, in the morbid excitement of her self-love, 
believed them capable of realizing the dream of Alexander 
and Napoleon, of subduing the universe. This transcendental 
idea detained her in Paris until the month of November, and 
three times a week she deigned to pose for the good of 
humanity in the great artist’s studio. The picture was to be 
finished for the next exposition in Vienna, and the little 
caprice cost her the trifle of forty thousand francs. Doubt- 
less very dear, but for what had God given her the money ? 


CURRITA 


165 


That morning Currita had sent a message to Bonnat not to 
expect her, as she was obliged to accompany her Majesty 
the Queen to the Expiatory Chapel on the Boulevard Hauss- 
man. The Grand Hotel clock had already struck eleven, 
and Kate, the English maid, fastened with two large gold 
pins to Currita’s head the very rich Spanish-lace mantilla, 
with which the lady proposed to distract the few persons who 
would assist at the requiem rites of the unfortunate Louis 
XVI. The Duchess of Bara had already sent her maid to 
tell Currita that she was waiting, so they could go together 
to the Basilewsky palace ; and Currita, nervous and impatient, 
asked Kate if the Marquis had not yet returned. 

“ No, madam,” replied the girl. 

“ But what time did he go out? How is it he is up so 
early ? ” 

“ He did not go out.” 

44 How is that? ” 

44 Because he has not been in since last night.” 

44 Ah ! ” exclaimed Currita. 

And gazing at herself in the mirror, she arranged with the 
utmost care a little red curl, which prudently concealed upon 
her forehead a lot of freckles. The Duchess of Bara, tired 
of waiting, went in search of the lazy one. 

“ Why, Curra, what are you about? If you don’t hurry, 
the Queen will be kept waiting.” 

44 My dear Beatrice ! It seems you do not know the lady. 
It will be twelve o’clock before she leaves the Royal Cham- 
ber.” And observing that the Duchess’s mourning toilet 
was also completed by a Spanish-lace mantilla, she exclaimed 
with great glee : — 

4 4 My dear ! we have both had the same idea ! How 
delicious! Les grands esprits se rencontrent.” 

44 To represent Spain, one could not go in any other way. 
What I regret is, not having thought of the fan.” 

44 Well, yesterday I bought one expressly. Look, it is 
not bad. Do you want one like it? Kate will bring you 
one at once. I got mine at the Compagnie Lyonnaise, just 
around the corner.” 


166 


CURRITA 


The Duchess before the prospect of a fan, gratis, felt her 
haste diminish. It was a very pretty fan of dark smoked- 
pearl on a ground of black silk. Kate would pay for it 
at the store, and she would assuredly forget to pay Kate 
back; for in these matters of paying, the Duchess was a 
very absent-minded person. Kate, upon leaving the room, 
announced that the Marquis had returned. 

“Excuse me a moment, Beatrice,” exclaimed Currita, 
quickly. “I want to say good-bye to Fernandito.” The 
Duchess made a gesture of intimate complacency at the 
conjugal tenderness of her friend. 

“ What a pair of turtle-doves ! ” she said. “ I assure 
you, you make me envious.” 

And Currita, with a pathetic intonation, answered from 
the doorway : — 

“ Really it is a favor from Heaven not to have had, dur- 
ing fourteen years of married life, a single disagreement.” 

Fernandito had just arrived, and in truth his features did 
not bear indications of having been at his prayers. The 
collar of his great-coat was hanging down, his shirt was 
rumpled, there was a dent in his hat, and his eyes were red 
and swollen, while his breath emitted a strong odor of stale 
wine. He was very much surprised and perturbed at the 
sight of Currita, and with the forced smile of the scholar 
who covers a prank with a lie, he said : — 

“I have just come from seeing the cannibals, in the 
Jardin des Plantes.” 

She with tender solicitude exclaimed, very much alarmed : 

“‘Mon Dieu! Fernandito, I am very much afraid of those 
things ! Are they at large? Do they bite? ” 

“Bah! no! They are like any other negroes, only 
uglier.” 

And he buttoned up with much dissimulation the collar 
of his great-coat, in order to conceal from Currita the fact 
that his consideration for the cannibals had led him to the 
point of visiting them at ten o’clock in the morning, in 
evening dress and a white tie. She with her dove-like sim- 


CURRITA 167 

plicity did not remark this, and hastened to ask with ador- 
able ingenuousness : — 

“ Did you attend to my commission? ” 

“ What commission? ” 

“ How delicious ! Did I not tell you to go and see Jacob 
Tellez ? ”, 

“Jacob Tellez ? And who is Jacob Tellez ? ” 

“ Jacob Sabadell, of course, man ; the husband of my 
cousin Elvira.” 

“ Ah ! yes ! I thought his name was Benito/’ 

In Currita’s light eyes glittered a lightning-flash of wrath ; 
a little more and she would have lost her meekness. 

“ Although his name were Polycarp,” she exclaimed, u is 
that any reason not to do what I tell you ? ” 

“But, my dear, I forgot all about it. What must be 
done ? ” 

‘ ‘ Go this very minute ! Do you understand ? And invite 
him to breakfast. Be sure that on my return I find him 
here with you.” 

“Very well, my love, don’t worry. It shall be done. 
Did you say his name was Benito ? ” 

“Enough of Benito! His name is Jacob, and he is a 
most distinguished man, whom I wish you to consider as 
my cousin, which he is/’ 

Currita discoursed a moment upon family love, and the 
imperious duty of every citizen to cement these venerable 
ties, and leaving Fernandito quite convinced, she went to 
rejoin the Duchess. As both ladies were entering the 
carriage, Uncle Frasquito, very sprightly, exquisite, and 
resplendent, appeared, hurriedly making signs for them to 
wait for him. He got into the carriage with them, took 
a curious little pasteboard box out of his pocket, and placed 
it upon his knees. The ladies looked at him astonished, he 
smiling wickedly the while. Finally he raised the lid mys- 
teriously, and between two pieces of perfumed silk paper 
was revealed the small slipper. Meanwhile Jacob, without 
leaving his room in the Grand Hotel, was turning his proj- 


168 


CURRITA 


ect over in his mind. Clearness of judgment is in direct 
ratio to the convenient distance from which one contem- 
plates actions, and upon awakening that day, free from the 
perplexities and anxieties which had tormented him, he could 
appreciate his situation with perfect exactness. The lines 
of his plan now appeared clear and firm in all their contours, 
in the same manner as, when the waters retire after an 
inundation, the height of the hills, the extent of the plains, 
and the depth of the valleys become distinctly visible. 
Jacob then found that his hills were mountains, his plains 
deserts, and his valleys abysses. 

And the worst of it was that the first abyss which yawned 
at his feet, and which it was absolutely necessary for him to 
span, he had himself opened with his own hands the night 
before, by heedlessly staking everything upon a single card, 
forgetting that his game of cards was double and compli- 
cated. For the slipper bought at the Grand Bazar and 
Uncle Frasquito’s folly would that day place him on the top 
of scandal’s column, that glorious pinnacle of fashion, which 
this time was erected upon the corpses of two degraded 
beings, — one killed with a halter, the other stabbed and 
before having expired thrown, in a leather sack, alive and 
palpitating, into the depths of the Sea of Marmora. But 
from this column, whence one can dictate laws to the world 
of pomp and scandal, one only succeeds in inspiring con- 
tempt and invincible repugnance in that other world, not 
less small, but less known, of honor and virtue ; and it was 
just in this silent and hidden world that the person was to 
be found whom at all costs Jacob needed in these cir- 
cumstances. But who would now stem the course of the 
current? Who would stop Uncle Frasquito, slipper in hand, 
scouring the streets of Paris in search of a bit of celebrity, 
of a single little ray from the hero’s aureole. 

It was necessary to strike into another path, and chance 
threw into Jacob’s way one who would point it out to him. 
This was Diogenes, who hastened to see him very early in 
the morning, attracted, like the buzzards at the odor of dead 


CURRITA 


169 


flesh, by the money which he thought the Plenipotentiary 
must have brought. Diogenes was not like Sabadell, who 
never forgot his role of grand seigneur , and spent in pom- 
pous show and caprice just as freely when times were 
good as when they were bad, with the single difference of 
paying in the former, and not in the latter. Diogenes, on 
the contrary, lived in a modest maison meublee , and daily 
seated himself at the first table he found, without waiting 
to be invited, through a certain assumed right which his 
small amount of self-respect guaranteed, and through a 
constant tradition which inveterate custom had converted 
into written law in the canons of Madrid society. When 
he had money he squandered it magnificently, and when 
he had none, he borrowed it with the always fixed deter- 
mination of never repaying it, according to his favorite 
maxim: “ Collect and don’t pay; we are but mortal.” 

That morning he had decided to breakfast with Jacob, 
and take him afterwards to the Petit Club, to try his luck 
with George, and with the deliberate intention of getting in 
some fine work on the way. His surprise, then, was great 
when Jacob, with the austerity of a St. Paul, first hermit, 
and the fortitude of a St Anthony in the desert, refused 
absolutely to leave the hotel, saying that he had sworn he 
would never again tread the impure streets of Paris, that 
never again would he take a card in his hand, and that, as it 
was not convenient for him now to go to Madrid on account 
of the political change, he had decided to leave the next 
morning for Biarritz, where he was going to attempt a recon- 
ciliation with — Polaina / — with his wife ! ! Diogenes lis- 
tened to him in silence, looking at him from head to foot ; 
his eyes, swollen from continual drunkenness, finally fixed 
themselves upon Jacob’s. When the latter finished speak- 
ing, he said to him very seriously : — 

“ Nonsense ! You talk like the gypsy in the fable i 4 Lord ! 
all ask for their daily bread ; I only ask to be put where there 
is bread, and I will take care of the rest.’ ” 

“ X don’t understand you,” 


170 


CURRITA 


44 Well, I will speak more clearly. You say: 4 My wife 
has gained her lawsuit with the Monterrubios, and has an 
income of thousands. I am hungry like the prodigal son ; 
so I will go there and eat the fatted calf.’ ” 

Jacob was very much annoyed upon hearing his thought 
so faithfully expressed, in part at least, and with an air of 
offended dignity exclaimed : — 

4 4 1 assure you — ” 

44 Jacob, my boy! I can tell a cripple by the way he 
walks ! ” 

44 1 tell you — ” 

44 And I know the wool I am carding, Jacob ! 99 

44 You can think what you like ; but I — ” 

44 If children wish to deceive their elders, they must take 
the consequences. Look, child; neither you nor I have any 
self-respect ; but to be a rogue, the first thing necessary is 
talent, and while you are on the way, I have been and re- 
turned. Understand ? ” 

Jacob’s rebellious dignity seemed to be much appeased, 
and after a moment’s silence, he asked : — 

44 According to that, then, my plan appears to you 
absurd?” 

‘‘Absurd? For you it is a round business; for her a 
highway robbery.” 

4 4 And you think that Elvira — ” 

44 Would let herself be robbed? Certainly ! For you to 
raise your little finger is enough for her. For she loves you, 
man, as much now as the first day that you deceived her. It 
seems incredible.” 

44 Well, what then?” 

44 What then? You will have to proceed to headquarters.” 

44 And where are headquarters? ” 

44 My dear boy ; at Father Cifuentes’.” 

44 Ah ! I have already been told so.” 

44 Well, you have not been deceived.” 

Jacob remained for a moment thinking, and presently, 
scratching his head lightly, added with his jesting smile : — 


CURRITA 


171 


“ Then I suppose it would be necessary to confess to 
Father Cifuentes ? ” 

Diogenes became serious. 

“Look here, Jacob,” he said. “Do you see me? I am 
a jester, a drunkard, a lost one ; I have done everything but 
commit murder. But, understand, I respect all that has any 
reference to God. I respect all because I inherit that respect. 
Polaina ! I have imbibed it with my mother’s milk. I am not 
good, because I don’t want to take the trouble to become so; 
but I venerate him who does take the trouble, and who is good. 
And not because I deserve punishment do I fail to acknowl- 
edge that there are those who deserve glory, nor because I 
wallow in the mire do I cease to see that there are stars in 
heaven.” 

Jacob listened astounded at the strange sally of Diogenes, 
who pronounced his harangue with his large mouth drivelling, 
and striking at intervals either his breast or the table. 

“ And why all this outburst?” asked Jacob, finally. 

“ Why? So that you will leave your wife in peace, for by 
only thinking of her you injure her.” 

“ Well, you are complimentary 1 A most valiant paladin 
of my little Elvira ! And where did you become acquainted ? 
I suppose it was not in Father Cifuentes* confessional.” 

“ Certainly not. I have seen her, and have known how 
to appreciate her, at the house of Maria Villasis, who is 
her intimate friend.” 

“ So she is the intimate friend of your intimate friend 
Maria Villasis? Now I understand. And how is that 
perfect widow, as the Duchess of Bara used to call her? 
I suppose you must have experienced with her what the 
Chinese pugs experience, who from pure ugliness are attrac- 
tive. And my wife is no doubt your confidante ? ” 

“Stop there, canaille, or I will break your head!” ex- 
claimed Diogenes, thrusting his formidable fist up to Jacob’s 
very nose. “What do you want? Money? Well, there 
is the Countess of Albornoz, a poor lot, like yourself, who 
will give you all you want. What difference does it make 
to you to be called Jacob, or Monsieur Alphonse?” 


172 


CURBITA 


Jacob was really annoyed this time, for never had he heard 
such a bitter truth. He controlled himself, however, because 
he knew how terrible were the assaults of Diogenes, and 
with a forced smile answered: — 

“ My dear Diogenes, you have not entirely recovered 
from yesterday’s debauch. In whose head but yours, I 
should like to know, would originate the idea that I was 
going to sell myself to my wife for a handful of dollars?” 

“ My friend, when there is no more to be had, it is well to 
answer like the other gypsy of the fable. He confessed 
he had stolen three pesetas, and the priest said to him: 

‘ Are you not ashamed to condemn yourself for three 
miserable pesetas ? * ‘ And what would you have me do,’ 

answered the gypsy, ‘ if there were no more to be had ? * ” 

Here the dispute was interrupted by the Marquis of 
Villamelon, who came in, completely restored from the 
ravages of the morning. Diogenes, upon seeing him, 
quickly seized a newspaper and began to read near the 
fireplace, on the opposite side of the room. The Marquis 
went straight up to Jacob, who arose ceremoniously to re- 
ceive him, and squeezing both his hands, said to him very 
affectionately : — 

“My dear Benito, how are you? You, always so pop- 
ular — ” And with patronizing affability, he gave him two 
affectionate little taps on his left shoulder. 

4 4 1 beg pardon for not having come to see you yester- 
day, Benito,” pursued Villamelon, seating himself. “ But 
in this Paris, you see, there is no time for anything. Curra 
is expecting you to breakfast, you know, at two o’clock; 
a little late perhaps, but to-day she is engaged with the 
Queen . Understand ? ” 

He offended Jacob’s pride with his patronizing airs of 
hero of the navo-terrestre combat of Black Cape, and Jacob 
wished coldly to decline the invitation, but Villamelon stopped 
him, saying : — 

“ Not a word, not a word! Understand? I do not admit 
excuses, Benito; and Curra would be mortally offended, 


CURRITA 


173 


you know. She has a weakness for your family, and raves 
about yourself. She is always talking about Benito, — Benito 
here, Benito there.” 

Diogenes shouted from his seat : “ Villamelon ! Man ! I 
mean, idiot ! his name is not Benito! ” 

“Ay ! it is true. What was it? How is it? ” 

“ Jacob/’ 

“ That’s it, — Jacob. Excuse me, Jacob, but I have a 
most unfortunate memory, and the worst of it is that every 
day it gets weaker and weaker.” Fernandito complained 
with good reason of his lack of memory, fatal symptom at 
times of softening of the brain. But Diogenes, who let no 
opportunity escape him of discharging his terrible thrusts, 
began to recite as if he was reading from the paper : — 

“ Speaking of a certain history, 

A fool was asked : 

* Do you remember 1 ’ and replied : 

‘ Wait until I search my memory/ 

My Agnes, seeing his idiocy. 

Said at the moment, smiling : 

‘ Search your understanding as well ; 

It will cost you no more/ ” 

Jacob and Villamelon looked at each other, and afterwards 
at Diogenes, then again at each other, and burst out laughing, 
Fernandito saying finally : — 

“ What an original ! There is nothing to do except to kill 
him, or to leave him alone. Understand, Benito? ” 


CHAPTER XVII 

Uncle Frasquito’s legs would carry him no further, and he 
tried in vain to invent something similar to Churruca’s feat 
at Trafalgar, when the latter, deprived of one of his legs by 
a cannon-ball, continued to command the combat from the 
.bridge of the vessel, standing in a barrel of bran. Oh ! how 


174 


CURRITA 


dreadful it would have been if this had happened to him 
twenty years ago, when in a single day he had made sixty- 
nine visits, in order to be the first to announce the famous 
marriage which enlisted little Louis Bonaparte, Count con- 
sort of Teba, in the number of his nephews ! 

And the worst of it was that, when at four o’clock in the 
afternoon he returned to the Grand Hotel, exhausted and 
discouraged from not having been able to show to more than 
two thirds of the Spanish colony the apocryphal slipper of 
the Cadi’s wife, he found that this tragic history had a sequel, 
most interesting as well as pious, devout, sentimental and 
romantic, in which it fell to his lot to be, not only the chroni- 
cler, but the powerful agent, efficacious intercessor and key- 
keeper of Providence, as Diogenes would have put it, in the 
beautiful finale of this drama, which commenced its action in 
the Sultan’s beard and would terminate beneath Father 
Cifuentes’ cassock. Uncle Frasquito called to mind Mathilde 
and Malek-Adhel, and became very much affected, his emo- 
tion causing him a violent fit of coughing, which he was 
obliged to soothe with three marsh-mallows. For Jacob had 
come to him again to ask his help, and had opened to him 
the most hidden recesses of his heart. 

It was very singular what had happened to him, and in 
vain he had tried to explain it to himself. The night before 
he had tossed and tumbled in his bed, uneasy and wakeful, see- 
ing file before him in his mind’s eye the thirty-three years of 
his life, laden with pleasures, adventures, and endless worries, 
flowers without scent, enjoyments without remembrance, and 
follies without happiness, which produced in his soul the 
same impression of repugnance which the remembrance of 
sumptuous repasts produces in the surfeited and undigesting 
stomach. 

Uncle Frasquito listened to him, gaping and attentive, 
imagining he saw, breaking forth in Malek-Adhel’s passion- 
ate heart, the mysterious dawn which reformed the hearts of 
Ranees and Manara. But Jacob, suddenly abandoning the 
sentimental tone of his peroration, asked him in prosaic 


CURKITA 


175 


prose where his wife Elvira was at that time. Uncle Fras- 
quito’s face wore a disgusted expression, as if he was about to 
see Malek-Adhel exchange the white turban for the high hat, 
or as if he had been made to jump from one of Mme. Cottin’s 
pages to one of the 44 Stranger’s Guide.” 

44 Elvirrra? ” he answered. 44 1 really don’t know, but she 
must be in Biarritz. Yesterday Lopez Morreno’s wife said 
she had seen her.” 

Jacob remained for a moment silent and pensive, and 
Uncle Frasquito, bursting with curiosity, hastened to add, 
very obligingly and officiously : — 

44 But if you want certain information, I know a person 
who can enlighten you.” 

44 Who?” 

44 Father Cifuentes.” 

44 Why, man ! Do you know Father Cifuentes?” 

4 4 Of course I do ! He is my nephew ; half-brother on his 
mother’s side to the Countess of Vegallana. He is the son 
of Tonito Cifuentes, who was Assistant Secrretary of State 
in Izturrriz’s time, and took orders when — ” 

44 But is he also in Biarritz?” 

44 No, he is here in Pams, — in the Rrue de Sevres. He 
has not been in Spain since ’68, except en passant .” 

And with a certain delicate suspicion, he added timidly; 

4 4 Do you wish me to see him ? ” 

44 No! I w r ant to see him myself.” 

Uncle Frasquito gave another emotional start, already 
seeing Malek-Adhel in the act of founding a convent like 
Ranees, or a hospital like Don Miguel de Manara. Every- 
thing would turn out the very same, the identical same as in 
La Favorita! Ferdinand, la bella del Re , and friar Baltazar. 
The convent alone was wanting, and he, anxious to lay the 
corner-stone, hastened to say : — 

44 Well, I will take you to him when you like.” 

44 To-morrow, then.” 

44 Agrreed! ” 

Uncle Frasquito, cautious, however, and wishing to warn 


176 


CURRITA 


the novice of the deficiencies which Father Cifuentes might 
have in his rdle as Baltazar, hastened to tell him that the 
former was a poor unfortunate, with not an iota of good 
form about him, who spoke opportunely and inopportunely 
of hell, picturing such ugly and unpolished little devils, who 
had n’t the slightest resemblance to the correct, perfumed, 
and elegant little devils, whom Uncle Frasquito pictured in 
evening dress with white ties, curly hair, gardenias in their 
button-holes, monocles in their left eyes, and little bows of 
flame-colored ribbon on the tips of their tails. 

“ For, to tell you the truth,” he pursued with an air of in- 
timate confidence, “I am verry much of a Catholic, verry 
much of a believer, but as far as the clerrgy are concerrned, 
they leave much to be desired everrywhere. Not a single 
prriest can be found who knows how to underrstand us well, 
who knows how to mould himself to our way of living, or to 
the way of thinking of ourr set. This verry Father Cifuentes, 
the otherr day, at the interrment of Generral Terrcena, wished 
me good-afterrnoon, my boy, and trried to convince me that 
I had to die also, and that it was neeessarry to preparre one’s 
self and to meditate upon eterrnity. In fact, my boy, he 
rreally afflicted me ! And as forr poorr Pepita Abandon, you 
haven’t hearrd about it? Well, it was atrrocious, and most 
crruel. Such a good girrl, so elegant, so charritable, who 
neverr had but one loverr, Paul Verra, which all Madrid knew 
about and sanctioned, and even herr own husband w*as awarre 
of. Well, my boy, not so Father Cifuentes. Paul fell ill, and 
Pepita of course went in all haste and established herrself at 
his bedside. Father Cifuentes was notified and answerred 
that he could not enterr that house until Pepita should firrst 
leave it. Think of being so exacting ! She rrefused, of 
courrse, and Paul also ; and notwithstanding everything that 
was done to convince the good but unwise man that it was 
crruel to separrate them, and that e verry body would crriti- 
cise her abandoning him in his last hour, all was ineffectual 
and in vain. He was as stubborrn as an Arragonese; put 
his hands in his sleeves and rrefused absolutely, leaving him 


CURRITA 


177 


to die like a dog. And that, too, when they were on the 
point of asking the blessing of his Holiness; but all was 
useless.” 

“ I warm you of this,” pursued Uncle Frasquito, raising 
his finger, 4 4 forr if you arre thinking of consulting him about 
any — vocation, or of confessing — ” 

44 I confess? ” exclaimed Jacob, very indignantly. 44 What 
put that idea into your head ? ” 

4 4 As you said you wished to speak to him — ” 

44 Is n’t Father Cifuentes the confessor and intimate di- 
rector of my wife ? ” 

“Yes, cerrtainly.” 

44 Well, what I wish to exact of him is that he will oblige 
Elvira to accede to my wishes.” 

44 But what arre yourr wishes, Jacob? ” asked Uncle Fras- 
quito, very much alarmed. 

4 4 They are very simple and very Christian, — to be united 
again to my wife, and to forget the past.” 

44 Aaaah ! — Yeees ! ” exclaimed Uncle Frasquito, stupefied 
and disconsolate upon seeing the convent without foundation, 
the hospital unfinished, and the novice without taking the veil. 
And irritated and furious that the legend of Malek-Adhel 
should have the commonplace denouement of any Moorish 
comedy, he allowed himself to be carried away by his tell- 
tale spirit by saying : — 

4 4 But have you considerred well yourr wishes ? ” 

44 And do you think them, perchance, impossible ? ” 

44 Impossible? no, man. But do you know the life Elvirra 
leads? ” 

44 1 was just about to ask you.” 

Uncle Frasquito made two or three squeamish faces, ap- 
parently of distress, and answered, hesitatingly : — 

44 1 will tell you, Jacob. It is quite a public thing ; but I 
don’t know if I should.” 

44 Why should you not, Uncle Frasquito?” exclaimed 
Jacob, violently and irritably. 44 1 have the right to ask, 
and if you are my friend it is your duty to answer me.” 

12 


178 


CURRITA 


“ Of course I am yourr frriend, Jacob; do you doubt it? 
And I was the frriend of yourr fatherr also, and of yourr 
grrandfatherr. That is to say, I knew yourr grrandfatherr 
when I was but a child. But there arre cerrtain things — ” 

4 4 But what things? Speak out, man ; speak out ! ” 

“Well, then, Jacob, the truth is yourr wife has been the 
cause of a grreat deal of comment everrywherre.” 

“ Really? ” 

“ Yees : I am verry sorrry to tell you, but it is quite trrue. 
She is declassee , my boy, completely declcissee. All Madrrid 
has given herr the cold shoulderr, and she is only on frriendly 
terrms with my niece, Maria Villasis, who is of the same 
calibre. But at least the latter is a woman of spirrit, — 
spends money, and makes a noise.” 

“ But what is it that Elvira does? ” 

“Horrrorrs, Jacob! horrrorrs ! From the time she separ- 
ated frrom you she has not been seen anywhere ; neither at 
the theatre, norr at a ball, norr at the Castellana, not even a 
Sunday in Montijo’s house. Carrmen Tagle had a maid who 
once lived with herr, and such things that she told ! that she 
was always afterr the serrvants, because to-day was a fast- 
day, to-morrrow a churrch day, or the day after a day of 
abstinence. In fact, that she was insufferrable, that nothing 
stopped herr. And as forr herrself, what absurrdities ! They 
say she sleeps upon a low bench, lives upon brread and water, 
and, following the example of I don’t know what pious monk, 
used to scourrge herrself with a cat . 1 

“ How atrocious! — with a cat? But that is impossible! ” 

“Well, my dearr boy, they say it is quite trrue. You 
cannot imagine how we laughed, one night at Carrmen Tagle’s 
house, discussing the question. Some thought it must be a 
dead cat ; in which case I also could chastise myself, just as 
I might with a featherr dusterr.” 

1 In the life of the Ven. Father Eusebio Nieremberg, it is related 
that he used to chastise himself with one of those instruments like iron 
hooks called cats, and it was without doubt to this cat and to this illus- 
trious pious monk that Uncle Frasquito alluded. 


CURRITA 


179 


Jacob seemed to become perfectly tranquil upon hearing 
the horrors which Uncle Frasquito related to him, and cut 
short the thread of his discourse by saying : — 

“ Bah ! If it is nothing more than this I can easily restore 
her to her senses.” 

Uncle Frasquito was going to reply, very much disgusted, 
but Jacob stopped him by asking : — 

44 How does Elvira live? Does she spend much?” 

“ Hum ! She might as well be the widow of a suspended 
government official. She is thin and emaciated, — she whose 
figurre was once so grraceful and elegant. In fact, my son, 
one day I saw herr at Marria Villasis’s house, and she looked 
to me to be absolutely slovenly. As if to be a saint it is 
necessarry to become a pig, when cleanliness is a virrtue 
which can be prractised with frresh waterr and a sponge. 
Of her own house I can tell you nothing, for I have not 
seen it; thrree times I called there out of curriosity, but 
she neverr received me. However, she lives in a verry modest 
aparrtment, in the neighborhood of the Carbonerrras. ” 

44 This is not strange ; the poor thing must be rather badly 

off.” 

“ Hum ! don’t believe it. But have n’t you hearrd? Why, 
she is rrich, — has gained the lawsuit with the Monterrubios, 
and must have at least fifteen orr twenty thousand dollars’ 
income.” 

“Well, I am very sorry for it, man!” exclaimed Jacob, 
regretfully. 

“Not really?” 

4 4 Of course really ; for she being richer than myself, there 
will be no lack of evil tongues who will attribute to personal 
interest my reunion with her.” 

“Oh! no, no, Jacob! Don’t say that, Jacob ; whoever 
thinks such a thing can’t know you.” 

“Well, we’ll see. What is of the most importance at 
present is that I come to an understanding with Father 
Cifuentes.” 

44 Well, if you like, we ’ll go to-morrow.” 


180 


CURRITA 


“ Without fail.” 

Uncle Frasquito, resigned to the classical turn which the 
legend had taken, arranged with Jacob the hour when, on 
the following day, they would make the transcendental visit, 
the repentant spouse being anxious to start for Biarritz as 
soon as possible. The protector and the protege finally 
took leave of each other, and the former, in order to spread 
the news to the public without loss of time, ran straight- 
way to dress himself for his nocturnal rounds, afterwards 
going down to the hotel terrace, where all the Spanish 
colony were awaiting as usual the arrival of the mail. 

Neither the uncertainty of new misfortunes in the mother 
country, nor the thousand rumors which circulated through 
their adopted country, succeeded in distracting the general 
conversation from the novel history of the Cadi’s wife, 
whose apocryphal slipper they had all gazed upon, after 
some prudent precautions which Uncle Frasquito judged 
indispensable for the mise en scene. For, fearful lest some 
suspicious soul should doubt the authenticity of the orna- 
ment, he hastened, before exposing it for public veneration, 
to rub the sole on the floor, so that it would appear to have 
been used, and to obliterate with rich essences that over- 
powering smell of new shoe which the night before had 
awakened in his nostrils such dangerous doubts. 

The Duchess of Bara had not as yet found a favorable 
opportunity to make a critical analysis of the political- 
religious function at which she had assisted some hours 
before ; aud even Lopez Moreno’s wife, the dethroned 
Queen of Matapuerca, had for the moment forgotten the 
signal honor which awaited her the following day. The 
Duchess had announced to her that her Majesty the Queen 
had deigned to receive her, aud in the same breath, as one 
who is not much interested, had asked an extension for the 
payment of those small items which for several years she 
had been owing. 

“ Certainly ! Suit your own convenience ! ” the generous 
creditor had answered. 


CURRITA 


181 


In the same breath also, and as one also not particularly 
interested, she had fired this matrimonial shaft, with an 
inquiring smile : — 

“Lucy and Gonzalito (the Duchess’s first-born) are 
enchanted to be together. What a delightful pair they 
make ! To-day they have gone to the skating-rink, as 
Gonzalo is teaching Lucy to skate.” 

The Duchess caught the hint on the wing, and answered 
with a polite smile which covered this thought: — 

“ You are very fresh! Any day you choose, you will 
endorse the girl as daughter-in-law! A Duchess of Bara, 
nee Lopez Moreno ! God help us ! ” 

Currita, for her part, preserved that afternoon a solemn 
silence, born of the rage of two thousand demons which 
danced within her. Jacob had slighted her breakfast with 
the frivolous pretext that he was obliged to rest after his 
journey, and she had discharged her wrath upon the defence- 
less Villamelon, who, seated behind her in a pensive atti- 
tude, consoled himself for his wife’s harshness by thinking 
of hobgoblins, and distracted his imagination with vivid 
recollections of his visit to the cannibals. Leopoldina 
Pastor made noise enough for a hundred, proposing to relate 
to Octave Feuillet the history of the Cadi’s wife, so that he 
might write an Oriental tale, and lamenting the fact that 
Jacob Sabadell did not put in an appearance anywhere ; all 
of them waiting impatiently to pay him their just tribute 
of admiration, which his novel adventure inspired, and 
which would be so different from the cold reception they 
had tendered him the evening before. 

Uncle Frasquito then appeared on the scene, dressed in 
gala costume and laden with perfume and news, which, as 
the bubbles announce the boiling of the water, his counte- 
nance announced with a significant and expansive smile. 
Jacob’s unexpected resolution caused a profound sensation 
in the auditorium ; and when Uncle Frasquito declared that 
the hero expected to leave for Biarritz possibly the follow- 
ing day, two persons, Diogenes and Currita, could no longer 


182 


CURRITA 


control themselves. The first rose from his seat and 
walked straight up to Uncle Frasquito, as if he would like 
to strike him, and the second, whose violent anger was not 
noticeable otherwise than by a strange vibration in her 
sweet little voice, began to pour forth injuries and vitu- 
perations against the Marchioness of Sabadell, her much 
beloved cousin, to the great astonishment of Villamelon, 
who still remembered the little sermon on family love to 
which he had listened that morning. 

The feminine contingency echoed Currita’s vituperations, 
and all agreed that the Marchioness of Sabadell was an 
intrigante , a hypocritical devotee, and a bad wife, who, hav- 
ing stood upon her dignity for ten years, among priests 
and acolytes, now wished to throw a gloom over poor 
Jacob by placing him under the guardianship of Father 
Cifuentes, and that it was a question of conscience and an 
imperative obligation for every faithful Christian to snatch 
the mask from the hypocrite, and to warn the unthinking 
man of the snare which was laid for him. Diogenes, when 
half-way up to Uncle Frasquito, seemed suddenly to decide 
to spare him his life, and vigorously attacked the feminine 
host, saying that they were like a gypsy’s curse : “ From 
female tongues you will know yourself ! ” — and that who- 
ever said “ woman,” said “devil,” for the race was of such 
bad breed that every insect, even to the chinches — Polaina ! 
— were females. 

Everybody present laughed heartily at Diogenes’ idea, and 
he, more to annoy than to please them, then related that God 
had not made our Mother Eve from Adam’s rib, but from 
the tail of a monkey ; 1 for, although the former had been 
his first intention and he already had the rib in his hand 
from which to form the being destined to be the cause of 

1 This story and the following are very ancient tales popular in 
Andalusia, gathered by the author, and invented by the wit, at times 
profound, of the peasants of that land. The very simplicity of their 
style, the manifest innocence and at the same time mischievousness of 
intention, exclude from them all other irreverent idea. 


CURRITA 


183 


so many misfortunes, a monkey, who was watching him 
attentively, suddenly snatched the bone and ran to hide it 
in his den. The Lord pursued him and caught him by the 
tail, but the monkey pulled so hard that his tail came off in 
the Lord’s hands, who shrugged his shoulders, and said: 
u For what I am about to do, one thing is as good as 
another.” And from this strange utensil was formed the 
mother of the human race. 

There was a great outcry from the ladies at Diogenes’ 
story, and Currita, fearful lest, in the explosion of her 
wrath, she might have allowed something to escape her 
which it was to her interest to have left unsaid, hastened 
to follow up the joke by saying : — 

“ Well, see here, Diogenes, perhaps your story may have 
something of truth in it, for I have heard one very similar 
respecting the formation of man. They say that God had 
already created all the animals, but had not as yet created 
man; it was very late and he was tired, so to save time and 
work, he seized hold of the first insignificant little animal 
which crossed his path and said to it: “Look here, you, 
speak ! ” — and man was made. 

And as Currita said “ speak,” she gave a little tap with 
the tip of her fan upon the shoulder of her beloved spouse 
the Marquis of Villamelon. The latter, interpreting the signal 
as a sign of reconciliation, smiled contentedly, sweetly, and 
joyfully, while Currita leaning towards him whispered very 
softly in his ear : — 

“Listen, Fernandito. It seems to me quite natural that 
you should go and see if Jacob has rested and invite him to 
dinner. Tell him I shall expect him without fail, because 
I wish to speak to him about something of interest to him.” 

At this moment the arrival of the mail was announced, 
and Diogenes took advantage of the natural commotion 
which this caused, to approach Uncle Frasquito and seize 
him unceremoniously by the open lapel of his rich fur coat, 
which exposed to view an immaculate shirt-front, in the 
centre of which glistened, beneath his white cravat, a most 


184 


CURRITA 


exquisite turquoise, blue as the heavens. Uncle Frasquito 
was terrified upon seeing himself alone and defenceless in 
Diogenes’ clutches, and tried to conceal his fears by receiv- 
ing him humbly, smilingly, and affectionately, calling him 
Perriquito and offering him rich cigars, which he himself 
never smoked, but always carried about him in case of an 
emergency. But Diogenes, fixing upon him his eyes swollen 
from rum and ginger, with the malignant influence of the 
serpent which fascinates the unwary little bird, asked him 
with very bad manners, after an imperious “Look here, 
Frasquito! ” if it was true he was in league with Jacob. 

He in league with Jacob ! What an idea ! Why, it was 
this verry Jacob who was annoying him even in his verry 
room, for Heaven only knew what rreason. It was trrue he 
had asked forr an introduction to his nephew, Father Cif uentes, 
and he of courrse, to be rrid of him, had given him a carrd ; but 
who could have imagined he was going to accompany such a 
crazy fellow, or mix himself up in family affairrs, or intrigues 
of bad odor? 

And while Uncle Frasquito was speaking he disengaged, 
little by little, the lapel of his coat from Diogenes’ hands, 
until, finally releasing it, he promptly buttoned up his great- 
coat to the very chin, thus putting out of reach of any of 
Diogenes’ assaults his snow-white shirt-front. Diogenes, 
leaving him in peace, again asked : — 

“ And when does Jacob go to Biarritz ?” 

“ To-morrow night.” And in a mysterious manner and a 
tone of intimate confidence he added: “Of courrse, Jacob 
is only attrracted by the powerr of the Monterrubio millions 
which Elvirra is enjoying to-day. I wonder what she will do. 
For no human being can imagine a girrl so good and saintly 
wishing to rre-establish a menage with that Pontius Pilate.” 

Diogenes turned his back upon him without asking further 
questions, and Uncle Frasquito, delighted to see himself 
free, at the sole sacrifice of betraying his friend, hastened 
to notify Currita that Diogenes took the Duchess of Saba- 
dell’s part, and to deplore with the Duchess of Bara the 


CURRITA 


185 


fact that the correctional police could not put a stop, either 
in Spain or France, to the outrages of this cynical old man. 
The latter had left the terrace by way of the reading-room 
and entering a small adjoining room had seized pen and 
paper and in a very strange handwriting began this letter : 

“ My dear Maria, — ” 

/ 

Here Diogenes stopped short, and scratching his nose 
with the end of the pen, seemed very much perplexed, until 
he finally added to the above, this reverential ending, “much 
respected.” 

“ To-morrow that rascal of a Jacob Tellez, who has the stamp of 
Cain upon his brow, is leaving here for Biarritz and intends noth- 
ing less than to attempt a reconciliation with his poor wife Elvira. 
He has escaped from Constantinople, where he has committed I 
know not what atrocities, and obviously has discovered that Elvira 
has money, and wishes to save her the trouble of keeping it. To- 
morrow, before leaving, he will have a conference with Father 
Cifuentes, in which Francesca di Rimini will serve as his 
tercero .” 1 

Here Diogenes noticed that something was not in har- 
mony, and added: — 

“ — or as tercera. I advise you of all this, in case you may 
be able to do something for that poor girl, who would be capable 
of giving herself up completely to that rogue of a husband, if there 
is no one to warn her. If I can be of any assistance, even to 
breaking Jacob’s neck — ” 

Here Diogenes again paused doubtfully, not knowing with 
certainty whether Jacob had one or more necks, and doubtless 
disposed to break as many as he had, finally continued : — 

“ — let me know and I will be there. I am still travelling with 
my sixty-two years on my back, journeying towards that hospital 
bed which so many times you have predicted for me. I wonder if I 
shall reach there when I am sixty -three ? ” 

1 Third, or go-between ; tercero , masc., tercera , fern. 


186 


CURRITA 


And finishing his letter with this question, he signed it as 
Antonio Perez used to sign his to Milady Richs : — 

“ Your whipped cur, madame, 

“ Diogenes. 

“ P. S. A kiss to Monina.” 

Here he stopped again perplexed, slowly shook his great 
head, and his pimply face took upon it an indefinable ex- 
pression of tenderness and sadness. 

That little Mona, a beautiful little creature four years of 
age and the idol of his heart, by a phenomenon similar to 
that which makes big dogs play with children, used to pull 
him by his whiskers and make him walk on all fours, guid- 
ing him by the ear ; but one day she had spurned a kiss from 
his alcoholic lips, by saying with infantile repugnance : — 

“ No ! it smells bad.” 

And Diogenes, the cynical Diogenes, who ridiculed the 
opinion of the whole world and even boasted of frequenting 
the most indecent places, felt before this angel’s repugnance 
that a great shame had invaded his heart and mounted to 
his forehead, tinging it with crimson and filling his eyes 
with tears. For three whole days he did not touch a drop ; 
on the fourth he again surrendered to the vice, but never 
tried to kiss the child again. And now, even at this great 
distance from the little girl, he felt culpable in writing the 
word u kiss ” in this postscript, and effaced it with big blots, 
writing in its stead, “Tell Monina I will bring her a doll 
which says ‘papa’ and ‘mamma.’” 

Afterwards he addressed the envelope to — 

“ Mme. La Marquise de Yillasis, 

Villa Maria, 

Biarritz.” 


CURRITA 


187 


CHAPTER XVIII 

A Queen’s caprice made, in a short time, out of a small, 
forgotten hamlet, one of the most noted centres of fashion 
among the demigods who regulate their customs, their 
luxury, their necessities, and even their consciences at times, 
by the extravagant laws of this oapricious tyrant. The 
Empress Eugenie erected in Biarritz La Ville Eugenie, and 
Biarritz was placed upon a level with Trouville, Dieppe, and 
Etretat. The Spaniards invade it in the summer, the English 
in the winter, and the Russians in the autumn, as if they 
all wished to enjoy by turns its rather problematic conven- 
iences and its very questionable charms. Luxury hastened 
to erect there villas and palaces, and speculation ran up 
hotels and casinos. Only piety remained with her hands 
folded. In Biarritz churches are at a discount. 

On the high-road to Bayonne, near the sea-side, is a deli- 
cious villa, nestling in a diminutive park like a dove in its 
verdure nest ; the grounds run parallel with the road, and 
are enclosed by a large double iron gate, upon each side of 
which is the inscription “ Villa Maria.” This opens into a 
large avenue, which, shaded by magnificent trees, makes 
three capricious turns, crosses a tiny stream, and leads to a 
semicircular plateau filled with flowers, a charming square, 
which serves as a garden of honor to the house. Three 
white marble steps give entrance to the lower floor, used 
solely for visitors, and adorned with the charming simplicity 
which adopts all that is beautiful, and rejects all that is 
sumptuous, and which constitutes good taste and elegance in 
the decoration of a country mansion. In the lower part of 
the vestibule opens the door of the drawing-room, through 
which one reaches a small adjoining cabinet, hung with 
cretonne, figured in large copper-colored flowers. At one eud 
of the room was a white marble mantel-piece, and at the 
other a large glass window thrown wide open, which let in 


188 


CURRITA 


floods of sunlight and permitted the view of the green park, 
with the beach farther on, and the blue of the sea in the 
distance. 

The clock in the little tower of the villa had already struck 
eleven, and two ladies, seated on either side of the fireplace 
in the small room, were conversing. One was weeping 
silently, and the other seemed to be consoling her. The 
latter was over forty years of age, and her absolute lack of 
“ make-up ” plainly revealed the silent march of time. A 
simple shell-comb bound her abundant masses of hair, almost 
completely white, and her rich gown of figured cloth with 
velvet trimmings, far from lending the slightest charm to 
her person, seemed rather to receive from the graceful and 
noble figure of the lady the severe elegance of its cut and 
folds. Her complexion somewhat dark, and her features 
far from perfect in outline, had nevertheless that mobile 
beauty of expression which is the same with respect to the 
physiognomy as color is to drawing, — beauty more correctly 
moral than physical, which always escapes the painter’s 
brush, and which constituted the principal charm of this lady, 
endowed as she was with a certain natural vivacity which 
did not exclude self-control, and a certain spontaneous and 
affectionate grace which, added to a very slight lisp, pro- 
claimed her Andalusian origin. 

The other, very much younger, seemed depressed and in 
ill-health ; her pale countenance formed a perfect oval, and 
her eyes and mouth attracted attention from their sweetness 
and sadness of expression. The former were large and blue, 
with a vague and somewhat exalted expression, as is that of 
hope in the midst of grief ; the latter was pallid and drawn 
at the corners, with that curvature which indicates habitual 
suffering, and is the first sign which agony stamps upon 
hopeless invalids and those condemned to death. She had 
on a dark hat without a veil, a long cloak of otter fur, and 
a little muff of the same skin, in which were hidden her 
gloved hands. 

This lady was the Marchioness of Sabadell, and the other 


CURRITA 


189 


was her intimate friend Maria Villasis, in whose house she 
was. The mail that morning had brought to the two ladies 
important news; the Marchioness of Villasis had received 
Diogenes’ letter and a long and detailed letter from Father 
Cifuentes. The Marchioness of Sabadell, for her part, had 
found upon her return from mass a letter which made all the 
sensitive fibres yet existing in her heart vibrate ; for a mo- 
ment the unhappy woman thought she was going to swoon. 

Ten years had elapsed since she had seen Jacob’s hand- 
writing, and even before glancing at the envelope that some- 
thing peculiar and mysterious which, in certain circumstances, 
makes the heart beat, and suddenly fixes the mind upon a 
remote and forgotten period, gave her warning of the author- 
ship of the letter. She entered her bedroom, reeling, drank 
with a trembling hand a swallow of water, and let herself 
fall unnerved into an arm-chair, gazing at the letter which 
she held in her hands, without daring to open it. 

The entire past suddenly surged into her mind, like one of 
those large billows which burst upon the shore, completely 
effacing the foam of other, smaller waves. Those brief days 
of happiness passed before her, when, madly in love with her 
husband, she had thought herself in possession of happiness, 
the false object of life, and had forgotten the true object, 
which is God. This was her only fault, — the fault of un- 
grateful children, which the immense majority of the human 
race incur ; forgetting God in their happiness, and only re- 
membering him in their grief, — it better suiting their egotis- 
tical condition to pray for help than to return thanks for 
favors received. Well did she now realize it, and well was 
she expiating it! 

Soon came trifling infidelities and small disenchantments, 
suffered without reproaches and pardoned without restric- 
tion, which did not succeed in overthrowing the idol from 
this enamoured soul, which was like a gentle river free from 
tempests, or like an seolian harp, upon which even the howl- 
ing of hurricanes was transformed into sighs. Afterwards 
came greater offences, and, little by little, the terrible dis' 


190 


CURRITA 


coveries of tremendous vices, which broke forth like mon- 
strous eruptions beneath the seductive aspect of this adored 
husband, whose depraved inclinations, indomitable passions, 
dissolute habits, and innumerable defects, were born and 
lived in his soul like loathsome worms in putrid flesh. The 
idol became a monster, and the unhappy wife tried to tear it 
from her outraged heart, as one discards all that offends or 
stains or dishonors ; but her soul clung to him, full of an- 
guish and shame, for the idol was always standing, always 
reigning within her, and, although monstrous, was none the 
less an idol. 

Finally came ruin and abandonment, long days of soli- 
tude, vain waitings for a letter, a thousand times answered 
before being received ; anticipations of his appeal for par- 
don, granted in advance. Finally came the agony of awak- 
ening day after day to find herself again alone in the arena 
of the combat of grief, asking herself, like the unfortunate 
Dauphin of France of his mother, Marie Antoinette, “ Is 
to-day still yesterday ? ” For her, yesterday was always to- 
day, and the idol was always an idol ! 

And now, when, after so many years, this letter stirred up 
that turbid wave of crushing afflictions, poignant sorrows, 
terrible offences and black ingratitudes, solitary tears and 
despised sacrifices, the unfortunate wife felt the love for her 
husband rising in her heart, always alive, strong, and en- 
slaved, resisting neglect, disdain, insults, and even absence 
itself, living without hope to maintain or nourish it, and for 
that reason as immortal as the soul itself. The poor woman 
was afraid of herself, and a bitter flood of tears gushed from 
her heart. She thought of her son, whose guardian angel 
she was, intrusted to defend the interests of his education 
against his own father ; and she feared that this passionate 
love would be the weak spot in her heart to cause her to 
stipulate with the enemy, who, like the vicious plant which 
draws the life from all those other plants which surround it, 
appropriates to itself the sap which vivifies, refreshes, and 
gives luxuriant growth. 


CURRITA 


191 


At the farther end of the room was an exquisite painting 
of the Holy Family, hanging over a very simple prie-dieu , 
and upon this the Marchioness sank, weeping bitterly, to read 
at the Virgin’s feet the unexpected letter. Jacob, without 
p eliminaries of any kind, informed his wife of his approach- 
ing visit, to discuss with her important business, whose 
arrangement, which filled his humbled heart with hope and 
comfort, had been advised by Father Cifuentes, an excellent 
person whom he had met in Paris. The Marchioness thought 
she could not have understood aright this last part of the 
short letter, and read it over and over again. Hypocrisy was 
the only vice she had never observed in J acob, and either this 
letter was overflowing with it, or God had worked in him one 
of his miracles. Could it be that that heart, whose cold 
egotism preserved it always frigid and insensible, like a 
corpse between layers of snow, had been comforted by Father 
Cifuentes’s hopes and consolations? This of course was 
absurd, but it was possible ; for the last twelve years it had 
been her daily prayer, her most ardent petition, and oftenest 
repeated supplication ; and God was so good, so great, so 
fatherly ! 

Although something hard and inflexible sprang up in the 
bottom of her heart, crying out that all this was but a farce 
and a new villany, the Marchioness drowned the voice with- 
out heeding it, in order to admit a ray of sunlight within her 
breast, which would dissipate the shadows of her sad aban- 
donment and allow hope and desire to erect at their pleasure 
a beautiful castle in the air. Without thinking of her break- 
fast, or delaying longer than necessary to bathe her weep- 
ing eyes at her toilet, Elvira hastened to the Marchioness of 
Villasis’s house, deluding herself with the idea of seeking 
prudent counsel in the clear understanding and pure affec- 
tion of her friend ; but in reality seeking something which, 
with the authority of the latter, would give encouragement 
and foundation to her hope. 

The Marchioness of Villasis well knew how to act, for 
Father Cifuentes in his letter had given her a detailed account 


192 


CURRITA 


of his interview with Jacob. The latter had presented him- 
self, concealing beneath his petulant arrogance the uneasi- 
ness and the species of suspicious fear which the Jesuits 
generally inspire in worldly people, who only know them 
through the thousand and one fictions which circulate in their 
favor or against them. But upon seeing before him this 
little man, almost vulgarly insignificant in person, plain 
even to carelessness in his speech, who never took his hands 
out of his sleeves except to help himself to a pinch of snuff 
from his horn snuff-box, or to display with deplorable fre- 
quency a bandana handkerchief of blue and yellow plaid with 
little green dots, his uneasiness was converted into contempt, 
and with the disdainful coldness which the proud maintain 
towards the humble, whom they imagine to have been exalted 
upon a usurped superiority, he evinced his desire to be recon- 
ciled with his wife, and to forget the past, and expressed his 
wish that the priest himself should be the one to advise his 
abandoned wife to accede to his wishes. And now it was 
that Jacob was convinced that Father Cifuentes was a poor 
unfortunate, without an iota of good form, as Uncle Fras- 
quito had previously told him. 

The Jesuit’s hands receded more and more within his 
sleeves, and very much pleased and satisfied, he opined that 
nothing was more in accordance w'ith Christian morality than 
family peace and the pardon of injuries. But — and here 
the horn snuff-box again appeared, to minister to Father 
Cifuentes a powder worthy of the Great Frederick — as for 
his advising her Ladyship the Marchioness to accede to the 
wishes of his Lordship the Marquis, his Lordship must take 
into consideration that her Ladyship had not consulted him 
in the matter, and the first requisite of prudent advice was 
that of being asked for it. 

Jacob opened his mouth to reply, but the blue and yellow 
plaid handkerchief with little green dots was again exhibited, 
and Father Cifuentes added that he believed, had understood, 
in fact it seemed to him probable that the Marchioness of 
Sabadell was about to leave Biarritz, and that in the event 


CURRITA 


193 


of liis not finding her, the most prudent and best thing his 
Lordship could do would be to see the Marchioness of Villa- 
sis, a very great friend of his, a woman of great intelligence 
and greater virtues, to whom he would take the liberty of 
giving him a letter of introduction, asking her to interest 
herself in the matter. 

Uncle Frasquito, who with a great lack of delicacy, born 
of his vehement desire to follow the intricacies of the drama, 
had constituted himself a witness of the conversation, now 
broke in upon it by declaring that this was an excellent 
idea, that his nephew Father Cifuentes was most decidedly 
right, and that the best thing for his nephew Jacob would be 
to consult his niece the Marchioness of Villasis, without 
delay ; for what the latter could not obtain from his niece 
Sabadell, no one in the w'orld, nephew or no nephew of his, 
could do. 

Jacob considered for a moment the plan proposed to him, 
and finally deciding to write at once to his wife, in order to 
stop her departure by the news of his approaching visit, 
accepted in any case the letter for the Marchioness of Villa- 
sis, and took leave of Father Cifuentes, calling him Don 
Gregorio. During the whole course of the conversation he 
had avoided with marked affectation calling him Father, 
addressing him continually as Senor Cifuentes. 

Senor Cifuentes accompanied the aristocratic pair to tlie 
door, with his hands as usual hidden in his sleeves, and, upon 
seeing them disappear within the carriage, permitted himself 
to murmur to his cassock, concerning his uncle and his 
uncle’s nephew : — 

‘ 4 Exact allegory of the world ! Folly protecting vice ! ” 

Without losing a moment, he at once began a letter to the 
Marchioness of Villasis, giving her an inkling of Jacob’s 
plans, which exactly coincided with those already given by 
Diogenes, begging her to prevent at all costs a meeting 
between Elvira and her husband, so that the latter might not 
again deceive her, and also advising her with great earnest- 
ness to banish forever, by some resource of her feminine 

13 


194 


CURRITA 


ingenuity, this good-for-nothing husband, who proposed to 
despoil his unhappy wife, to the serious injury of his innocent 
son. The Marchioness of Villasis took good care not to in- 
form Elvira of all this, and like the expert physician who 
dilutes an over-strong beverage in various doses, thus chang- 
ing poison into medicine, she began to undeceive the unhappy 
woman little by little. The letter which Elvira, trembling 
and agitated, handed to her she read attentively and returned 
without a word. The latter questioned her with her sad 
eyes full of tears, and the Marchioness of Villasis then 
said, shaking her head slowly : — 

“ I wouldn’t believe him on his oath.” 

Elvira bowed her head, crushed, for these words seemed 
to destroy with a blow the castle which hope and desire 
had previously erected in the depths of her heart. Two 
large tears coursed down her cheeks, while she murmured 
timidly : — 

‘ ‘ I have prayed so much ! and have wept so much ! ” 

“It is true. But he has lied so often, and has gone so 
far ! ” 

“ God can work a miracle.” 

“ And man can render it useless.” 

“ I hope not.” 

“ I fear so.” 

“ But how do you know? ” 

“And what reason have you, Elvira, to think so? ” 

Elvira’s grief then found vent in sobs, and as if this 
trouble was new to her, she felt, in all its fulness, the first 
necessity of all weak persons in misfortune, that of find- 
ing some friendly arms in which to throw herself, or some 
loyal breast upon which to hide her face wet with tears. 

The Marchioness of Villasis received her in her own arms, 
strained her to her heart, and kissed her upon the forehead, 
whispering to her with the gentle and affectionate voice 
which one uses in speaking to a disconsolate sick child. 
She, still sobbing, moaned : — 

“ What shall I do? What shall I do'? ” 


CURRITA 


195 


“ Leave Biarritz.” 

“ But where shall I go? ” 

“To Lourdes, to wait there near Our Lady until the 
storm passes.” 

“ But he will follow me ! ” 

“ He will not ; I will take it upon myself to stop him.” 

“But what if it should be true, Maria?” Elvira said, 
still clinging to her hope. “ What if his repentance should 
be sincere, and the poor man should find the door closed 
upon him?” 

“ In that case I shall know it, and will myself bring him 
to Lourdes. We will all three follow you, your husband, 
your son, and myself.” 

‘ 1 Ah ! little Alfonso ! Poor child of my heart ! What 
must I do with him? Take him with me?” 

‘ ‘ No ; leave him at the College.” , 

“Ah! no! no! that would be too much,” cried Elvira, 
beside herself. “What if his father should go there to 
see him, and should take him away from me? Child of 
my soul, to be without him ! — it would kill me, it would 
kill me ! ” 

And before this idea which terrified her, the unhappy 
woman, overcome by grief and weakness, suffered a slight 
swoon. The Marchioness made her swallow a cup of bouil- 
lon and a generous glass of wine, and finally succeeded, 
little by little, in tranquillizing her. They then arranged 
their plans ; Elvira would leave that very night for Lourdes, 
accompanied by Mile. Carmagnac, a very estimable woman, 
who had been governess to the Marchioness of Villasis’s 
only daughter. She then dictated a letter for Elvira, to be 
delivered to Jacob when the latter should present himself 
at his wife’s house ; in it she said that very urgent business 
prevented her from waiting for him in Biarritz, and that the 
Marchioness of Villasis was empowered to arrange with him 
business matters of whatsoever nature, Elvira agreeing in 
advance to whatever they might both decide. 

The Marchioness of* Sabadell assented to everything with 


196 


CURRITA 


that species of moral inertia which enervates the will when, 
in any business of life, faith is extinguished, and hope dies. 
But in heroic natures, strength increases with the pain of 
sacrifice ; and without now shedding a tear, or showing her- 
self to be either depressed or afflicted, she busied herself 
solely in the preparations for her journey. The two ladies 
breakfasted together at the Marchioness of Sabadell’s house, 
the latter giving over to her friend some important papers 
which the Marchioness of Villasis wished to have at hand, 
in case they should be necessary in her conference with 
Jacob. Both ladies then left for G-uichon, a small village 
situated between Bayonne and Biarritz, where the Jesuits, 
expelled from Spain by the Revolution, had opened the 
College which little Alfonso Tellez was attending. 

Elvira took leave of her son, without saying when or 
where she was going* and the rector of the College, who 
well knew all the lady’s troubles, was charged to permit 
no one to see the child during his mother’s short absence, 
except the Marchioness of Villasis. Two hours afterwards, 
the latter took leave of Elvira at the Negresse station and 
returned, sad and thoughtful, to Villa Maria, giving orders 
that she would receive no one. She shut herself up early 
in her room, and passed the greater part of the night in 
looking over and studying Elvira’s papers, writing a sort 
of document in the form of numbered articles. The follow- 
ing morning she arose very early and repaired to the chapel 
of St. Eugenie, heard two masses and devoutly received 
communion ; the prudence of the woman had made its cal- 
culations the night before, and the faith of the Christian 
now went to seek in the sacraments the divine grace 
necessary to conquer in the struggle. 

The morning was superb, and promised one of those 
splendid winter days in which the blood tingles, the soul 
expands, and the barometer rises, as if wishing to discern 
at a distance the coming of spring. At three o’clock in the 
afternoon, the large glass window of the room with which 
we are already acquainted was thrown wide open, and the 


CURRITA 


197 


sun came pouring in, filling everything with light and color. 
The Marchioness loved the sun and air with the passion 
with which they are loved by the poor, and detested that 
mysterious and coquettish jpetit-jour , in which passe beau- 
ties take refuge, in order to conceal the ravages of time. 
In the garden, Monina’s shouts while skipping rope blended 
with the roar of the sea lashing the coast, as if in nature, 
now so beautiful, so calm and splendid, the innocent har- 
monized with the terrible, the sea, and the child, supreme 
weakness and supreme strength. The Marchioness of Vil- 
lasis, leaning against the window, watched the sport of this 
beautiful little being, who had taken possession of, and com- 
pletely filled her heart, notwithstanding it was so large. 
This little girl was her grandchild, the daughter of her only 
child, who had died upon giving her birth five years before ; 
her father’s death, also, had left her doubly an orphan. 

Suddenly the Marchioness closed the window and seated 
herself by it, next to a small secretaire, upon which she was 
accustomed to despatch her ordinary correspondence. She 
had heard the rumble of a carriage in the distance, rolling 
upon the gravelled roads of the park, and shortly afterwards 
a servant entered the room and announced the Marquis of 
Sabadell. The man had no sooner left the room than the 
Marchioness crossed herself rapidly, fixing for a moment 
her large and brilliant black eyes upon a beautiful picture 
of the Virgin hanging in the lower part of the room, and 
then turned towards the door as smiling, as self-possessed, 
and as serene as when receiving her intimate friends in 
Madrid. 


CHAPTER XIX 

That the reader may understand how important this inter- 
view was for Jacob, it is necessary to acquaint him with cer- 
tain prior events which time and chance had furnished up 
to that time, thus throwing some light upon the gloom sur- 


198 


CURRITA 


rounding crimes still unpunished and intrigues not altogether 
disentangled. No one is ignorant of the fact that Masonry 
was triumphant in Spain at the breaking out of the Revolu- 
tion of 1868. It seemed, notwithstanding, and reasonably 
enough to some of the leaders of the sect, that the Spanish 
populace was not yet sufficiently ripe to establish the Re- 
public, and they resolved meanwhile to enthrone a constitu- 
tional monarch, who would be a mere instrument in their 
hands. The Duke of Aosta was therefore selected for this 
purpose, and General Prim and Don Manuel Ruiz Zorrilla, 
afterwards appointed honorary Grand Orient of the Supreme 
Council of Spain, were deputed as delegates of the sect to 
offer him the crown. For these reasons grave dissensions 
broke out in the very heart of the lodges, which resulted in 
the assassination of General Prim while the commission de- 
puted to offer the crown officially to the Duke of Aosta was 
returning from Florence. 

Forming part of this commission was a certain personage, 
a practical and prudent man, whose memory we are careful 
not to dishonor by supposing him to be affiliated with the 
sect, there being no certain testimony to prove it. It is, 
however, certain that said personage took a warm part in 
the politics of one of these factions, and carried with him 
upon that journey, with mysterious intent, papers of great 
importance, which compromised many of the sectaries of the 
opposite party. 

Death surprised this person in Geneva the eleventh of 
December, and to the present day it is unknown by whom 
those papers were deposited in a certain lodge at Milan, 
which delivered them later on to Victor Emmanuel, as 
precious weapons which could well secure the always vacil- 
lating throne of his son in Spain, by completely foiling certain 
mercenary politicians, models in all epochs of disloyalty and 
shamelessness. It now happened that the Marquis of Saba- 
dell, flying from Constantinople, lost and ruined, arrived in 
Milan, and presented himself at this lodge, into which, years 
before, Garibaldi had initiated him. The venerables wel- 


CURRITA 


199 


corned him as an envoy from the Great Architect, and at 
once presented him to Victor Emmanuel, as the very man to 
convey documents and instructions to Spain, and to give to 
Don Amadeo’s policy the impetus desired in Italy. 

The reinforcement arrived late, however, as we have 
already seen how the fall of the Duke of Aosta destroyed 
the fine calculations which Jacob, with probable foundation, 
had made in Paris. He thus saw himself again alone and 
ruined, and necessity, always a bad counsellor, and created 
most frequently by rash undertakings, suggested to him the 
idea of utilizing the precious deposit to his own advantage. 
Thus arose complications and dangers, plans traced out and 
frustrated. 

His original idea was to have placed his precious treasure 
at the disposal of the Alfonsists or Carlists, accordingly as 
the former or latter should have more or less chances of 
triumphing ; and in order to destroy at once the bad impres- 
sion which his sudden appearance in Paris had caused among 
the Alfonsists, he hastened to propagate by means of Uncle 
Frasquito the novel history of the Cadi’s wife, which so 
gloriously justified his flight from Constantinople. But at 
the same time, and first of all, it was necessary to throw the 
deceived Masons off the track; to accomplish which, Jacob 
conceived the idea of becoming reconciled with his wife, and 
of secluding himself by her side for a year, living quietly 
meanwhile upon her income, and as far as possible cancelling 
with it his debts. He would sound the ground also gently 
and quietly, until he should find the highest bidder for his 
services, which he expected to sell at public auction. His 
reconciliation with Elvira was therefore the key to the 
castle he had built, and which he tried to insert in this 
interview. He accordingly entered the small room, armed 
with all his boldness, serene and smiling, with the air of 
one friend who prepares for another, by his unexpected 
appearance, an agreeable surprise. Upon seeing him enter, 
the Marchioness extended to him her hand with great kind- 
ness, saying affectionately : — « 


200 


CURRITA 


“Ah! Jacob! how are you? But one can see that time 
for you has stood still! I find you are the very same as 
when we met, five years ago, in Brussels; do you re- 
member ?” 

Jacob cordially pressed the hand the lady offered him, 
between both his own, and replied with no less kindness and 
affection : — 

“Of course I remember! Meetings with you are not 
easily forgotten! But you indeed seem never to have 
passed your twenty-fifth year ; always so — ” 

“For Heaven’s sake, Jacob! What a way to murder 
truth for the sake of a compliment. Don’t you see my head ? 
It is completely white ! ” 

‘ 4 Bah ! That is the refinement of coquetry ; you powder 
your hair like the Marchionesses of the Court of Louis XV.” 

“ Well, it seems I have something in common with them,” 
exclaimed the Marchioness, laughing ; “at least in the prox- 
imity of the date.” 

Jacob meanwhile had seated himself upon a chair, on the 
other side of the secretaire , which thus separated the two, 
and, after this first greeting, found himself somewhat em- 
barrassed. Hoping that the Marchioness would first enter 
upon the subject in which both were interested, he began to 
speak of the great affluence of politicians of all sorts who 
were at that time flocking to Biarritz, which seemed to be 
the shore upon which the Spanish republic w r as casting the 
wreck of the Savoy an Monarchy. The Marchioness then 
broke the ice by saying in a very pointed manner : — 

“Yes. It seems Biarritz is the chosen theatre for dip- 
lom atic negotiations. ” 

Jacob pretended not to understand her meaning, and 
answered in the dictatorial tone of a politician : — 

“Their issue is very doubtful. I believe none will 
succeed.” 

“None?” questioned the Marchioness, laughing. “Not 
even mine ? ” 

“ Ah ! that is quite another thing ! ” replied Jacob, jovially. 


CURRITA 


201 


“ No one can resist the diplomacy of petticoats. I remem- 
ber once hearing Castelar say that the world is governed by 
petticoats, — that is to say, by skirts and cassocks.” 

“Well, be it so, Mr. Bismarck; for I suppose you know 
I have been appointed plenipotentiary.” 

“Yes,” replied Jacob; “ I have already had the creden- 
tials delivered to me.” Saying this he laid upon the top of 
the secretaire the letter which, dictated by the Marchioness 
of Villasis herself, Elvira had written the evening before. 
The Marchioness read it attentively, as if she had never 
seen it before, and returned it to Jacob saying : — 

“ It seems to be all right. Bismarck may, when he 
pleases, unfold to me his line of action.” 

“ I think it more fitting that Mr. ,” Jacob stopped, 

smiling, as if ignorant of the name of his diplomatic antag- 
onist, and the Marchioness added very formally : — 

“Antonelli. In this way we do not get out of petti- 
coats.” 

“ — that Monsignor Antonelli first expounds his. The 
Nuncio has always been the Dean of the diplomatic corps.” 

“ And for that reason should speak last ; so you are mis- 
taken, Mr. Bismarck. But it does not matter, and I will 
expound mine with a sincerity unbecoming my office. My 
policy is : c Our Father who art in Heaven — Thy will be 
done — Forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive those who 
trespass against us — Lead us not into temptation — Deliver 
us from evil/ ” 

The Marchioness emphasized some of these words in such 
a manner that her policy was perfectly understood by Jacob. 
The latter, whose trespasses were thus pardoned, well under- 
stood it so, and was filled with hope. 

“ Italian policy ! ” he said, shaking his head. “It is the 
most clever.” 

“Not Italian, but Roman,” replied the Marchioness, 
quickly. “It is the most holy.” 

Jacob felt that the moment had come to drop this humorous 
tone, so peculiar to Spaniards even in their most serious 


202 


CURRITA 


affairs, and disposed himself to enter upon his subject. 
His gloves, which he had taken off, he laid upon the secre- 
taire, and leaning upon it with both elbows, and twisting 
about a magnificent diamond ring which he wore upon one 
of his little fingers, he began to speak, looking at its 
reflections. 

“ Listen, Maria. I am very glad to be able to arrange 
this affair with you, rather than with Elvira, for you are a 
woman of the world, and will know how to understand my 
situation and put yourself in my place. Elvira is an angel 
with the wings of a swan ; you are also an angel, but with 
an eagle’s wings.” 

The simile was pretty, and the Marchioness acknowledged 
the compliment with a slight smile. 

u My actual situation,” pursued Jacob, 44 can be reduced 
to this : 4 1 have seen much of the world, and have soon be- 
come tired,’ I remember having read in Confucio.” The 
Marchioness could not help laughing outright upon hearing 
this holy father quoted with such pedantic formality by 
Jacob, and the latter, somewhat abashed, said, rather 
annoyed : — 

4 4 You laugh? ” 

44 No, man, no. I am laughing at the author, not at the 
quotation ; what is it ? ” 

44 A most profound one,” replied Jacob. 4 4 4 I ascended 
to the top of Mount Tam Sam, and the Kingdom of Su 
seemed small to me. I continued ascending, to the top of 
Mount Tai-San, still higher, and the empire seemed small.’ 
The same thing has happened to me ; the higher the events 
of my life have raised me, the more contemptible my triumphs 
have seemed to me.” 

44 Well, assuredly, Confucio was not mistaken in the para- 
ble,” said the Marchioness. 44 But to apply it to yourself, 
my friend, you put the shoe on the wrong foot. You should 
not say 1 ascended, but I descended ; for these triumphs of 
your life have not exalted you, but rather lowered you ex- 
ceedingly. So you should rather say: 4 1 descended into 


CURRITA 


203 


tlie pool of Tam Sam, and I lost sight of virtue; I dived 
into the well, very much deeper and more miry, of Tai-San, 
and all ideas of honor and duty were completely effaced.’ ” 
This brusque and unexpected attack completely discon- 
certed Jacob, and biting his lips he said bitterly : — 

“ Roman policy with all its intolerances.” 
u Bismarckian policy yours, with all its criminal — mark it 
well, its criminal — condescensions.” 

Jacob bowed his head in silence, pale with anger, and 
began to play with his gloves on the table. He understood 
that this evasive moral criterion, which masks vile defects 
and enormous vices with pompous names, was in the present 
instance rejected as false ; that the Roman policy called 
bread, bread, and wine, wine ; vice, vice ; infamy, infamy ; 
and trifles, monstrosities ; and concluded by being convinced 
that he had made a mistake in trying to justify the past. 
He therefore resolved wholly to retract everything, at the 
same time calling to his aid what he judged to be his reserve 
force. 

The Marchioness, for her part, had attacked him thus 
brusquely and cruelly in order to widen the field in which 
she wished to examine him, and also that she might not, 
through a too premature or credulous confidence, expose 
the trap which through her strategy she had set for the 
farceur . 

“ You are right, Maria,” he said at length, gravely. “ But 
you cannot do less than concede that the amour propre 
which bends to make this confession means and deserves 
something, and that it is neither charitable nor Christian to 
refuse to lend a helping hand to one who wishes to get out 
of the well. Father Cifuentes,” he added with a sad smile, 
“ notwithstanding he is more Roman than yourself, has con- 
ceded me both things.” 

“ What did Father Cifuentes say to you? ” 

“He gave me this letter for you,” answered Jacob, hand- 
ing it to her. 

The Marchioness read it, like the other, as if it were new 


204 


CURRITA 


to her, and apparently giving it a margin which it by no 
means had, said quickly with an air of great contentment : 

4 ‘ This is quite another thing. Father Cifuentes’ word for 
me is law, and I am entirely on your side. Explain to me 
now your wishes, clearly and concisely.” 

Castelar was right ! There is not a doubt that cassocks 
divide with petticoats the empire of the world ! And while 
Jacob was thinking this, with a certain angry indignation, 
which made Father Cifuentes seem still more odious to him, 
he began to trace out a charming plan, an aristocratic exist- 
ence, half rural, half feudal, which he unfolded little by 
little. He had no wishes, nor could he conceive others than 
those Elvira might have. He had been conquered, and par- 
doned, and could have no other aspirations than to obey 
unconditionally, reviving again that distant time in which 
they had both been so happy, loving each other so tenderly. 
Here Jacob seemed to be very much affected, and gave 
evidence of his erudition by recalling the following from 
Dante : — 

u Nessun maggior dolore 
Che ricordarsi del tempo felice 
Nella miseria.” 

paraphrasing it with the quotation from the Marquis of 
Santillana : — 

“ La mayor cuyta que aver 
Puede ningun amador, 

Es membrarse del placer 
En el tiempo del dolor.” 

The Marchioness was seemingly charmed, and also much 
moved, and urged him to lay aside all feelings of delicacy, 
and to state his plan of life, which, considering his recon- 
ciliation with Elvira as already effected, it would be a pleas- 
ure to discuss. From this, Jacob believed himself master 
of the situation, and his immense vanity made him feel the 
satisfaction of having deceived his antagonist before the 
pleasure of having gained his object. The thousand and 


CURRITA 


205 


one pretty phrases which he had read and committed to 
memory, in order to embellish his romantic eloquence, 
flocked in confusion to his lips, bursting from them in 
torrents. What plan could he have, other than to pass 
the whole of his life adoring Elvira, with a passion humble 
and considerate, satisfied with burning at a distance, like 
the candle of a beggar on the lowest step of the altar? 
He owned in Grenada an old castle, the tower of Tellez- 
Ponce, with vast tilled lands and dense forests, whence, now 
undeceived as to the Revolution, he had often dreamed of 
opposing it, thus realizing the ideal grandee of ancient 
Spain, who, leaning upon his plough and sword, was, at one 
and the same time, master and protector of the district, 
father of his colonies as well as their chief. Would Elvira 
care to assist him in this work, by secluding herself with 
him in this retreat? Ah! if all the grandees of Spain, at 
last understanding its interests, would do the same, leaving 
luxury with its vices, and power with its knavery, to the 
improvident rich and venturesome politicians ; if they would 
be charitable in the country, whilst the rest were usurers 
at Court, and would lend a kindly hand to the poor peasant, 
when others rejected him in scorn, the people, the real 
people, would at last realize which were their sincere friends ; 
and the mud of politics might foment at Court, cause revo- 
lutions, and issue throughout the country shameless decrees, 
but all this insolence would exhaust its force upon the 
herbs of the fields, and its miry wave would never wash the 
portals of its churches or castles, defended by a bulwark of 
villages ! 

The Marchioness gazed upon and listened to Jacob with 
enthusiasm and with wonder ; with wonder great and pro- 
found, as she had already read in Veuillot, some years back, 
something very similar to this beautiful peroration; and 
here in the very secretaire before her, among Elvira’s papers, 
she had stored away the deed of sale of the Tellez-Ponce 
tower, sold at public auction by Jacob’s creditors, and 
privately bought in by Elvira herself, in order to savq from 


206 


CURRITA 


the usurers this last historical relic of the family to which 
her son belonged. The Marchioness’s good-natured smile 
did not forsake her, however, before such an ignoble farce, 
and, enthusiastic and overcome, she hastened to assure 
Jacob that she could not imagine a plan more in harmony 
with Elvira’s tastes, and that she accepted it without hesita- 
tion and would indorse it in her name. 

“ Is it not true that my idea is profound ? ” exclaimed 
Jacob, blinded by his vanity as an orator, which was the 
greatest and most petted of all his vanities. 

Ah! it had cost him much sad experience to conceive 
and unfold it. And what made him find it more convenient 
at this moment, more dear to his understanding, and more 
grateful to his heart, was that it would remove the only 
obstacle which, in planning his reconciliation with Elvira, 
had presented itself. It was an obstacle of delicacy to 
a man of honor, who wished to put himself beyond the 
reach of gossiping tongues. He had heard in Paris, from 
Uncle Frasquito, that Elvira had gained an important law- 
suit, and was at present very rich ; this had almost made 
him abandon his project, for the world was very malignant, 
and a thousand murmuring tongues would lose no time in 
attributing this step of his, not to disgust of the world, nor 
to repentance, but rather to his wife’s money and his own 
ruin. But by their retiring to Tellez-Ponce they could live 
upon the income of property which was his own, and 
Elvira’s capital could be preserved intact for his son’s 
patrimony. This was the first time during the whole course 
of the conversation that Jacob had mentioned the boy, and 
he did so now to insure a fraudulent imposture. The Mar- 
chioness felt an oppression at her heart, whilst hearing him 
speak of this repentance in which the thought of God did 
not enter, and of this love for his wife in which no affec- 
tion for his son found part ; but softening her smile more 
and more by an effort of her powerful will, and giving to 
her accent a more marked tone of confidence and affection, 
she said, shaking her head disdainfully : — 


CUERITA 


207 


“ Bah ! Don’t think of that.” 

“ Yes, Maria, indeed one must think of it; for what 
is said of one, whether it be true or false, generally plays 
as great a part in our lives as what we really may have 
done. I well know it by personal experience.” 

“ Do what is right, for God is God! ” said the Marchion- 
ess, sententiously. “ That is my motto ! ” 

“ And mine also ; at least it has been lately. But one 
must not lose sight of the fact that, if virtue depends upon 
our own actions, honor depends upon public opinion.” 

“ Well, you already have the favorable opinion of honor- 
able people. What more do you want? ” 

“Nothing; I ask for nothing more,” replied Jacob; 
“ for this reason, when Father Cifuentes advised me what 
to do my doubts at once ceased.” 

“And moreover,” added the Marchioness, with artless 
ingenuity, “ your thoughts have coincided with mine. Of 
course a decent man could but think as you have done, and 
so I have foreseen, in order to silence your scruples, a very 
simple remedy.” 

“ W r hat is it?” asked Jacob, somewhat in suspense. 

The Marchioness raised the lid of the secretaire , and tak- 
ing out the document written by herself the night before, 
placed it before Jacob, saying, with her customary frank 
and winning smile : — 

“ By signing this, the Rubicon will be passed.” 

Jacob began to read the document with some surprise, 
and as he perused its pages, his lips contracted and his 
cheeks turned crimson. The Marchioness fixed upon him 
a look of profound compassion. When he finished reading 
he threw the paper upon the table, murmuring : — 

“ But Maria ! This is impossible — impossible. I cannot 
sign this ! ” 

The document was a complete and explicit renunciation 
of all right of intervention and of all authority that the law 
might concede him in the administration of his wife’s prop- 
erty, or in the management of his son’s patrimony ; and all 


208 


CURRITA 


so perfectly detailed and planned with such prudence that 
Jacob’s covetousness and rapacity would be completely nipped 
in the bud by simply signing his name to it. Antonelli had 
conquered Bismarck ; the angel with eagle’s wings had caught 
the devil with bat’s wings by the foot. Jacob, wounded 
in his vanity and routed in his plans, was furious upon 
seeing himself caught in his own meshes ; whilst the Mar- 
chioness, much surprised and astonished, asked him, with' 
out losing an atom of her apparent ingenuousness and 
womanly tact : — 

“ But why do you not care to sign? What is wrong about 
it?” 

“Because — because, to sign this would be to renounce 
my dignity as a husband.” 

“Your dignity as a husband? But did you not say a 
moment ago that only the obstacle which this document re- 
moves had made you hesitate in your project? ” 

“ But this paper lowers my dignity.” 

“ On the contrary, it raises and secures your dignity in 
public opinion.” 

“ When it is a question of honor, opinion can be dispensed 
with.” 

“ Opinion dispensed with? But you said, only a moment 
ago, that what is said of one, whether it be true or false, 
generally plays as great a part in one’s life as what one really 
may have done.” 

“There are cases in which the testimony of one’s own 
conscience is sufficient for a man of honor.” 

“But, man ... of honor! You have only just said that, 
although virtue depends upon our own actions, honor de- 
pends upon public opinion.” 

J acob, forced like a wolf caught in a trap to seek an escape, 
and not finding one, exclaimed at last, breaking through all 
forms of constraint, the last thing that the most inapt of 
diplomats is wont to do: “Roman policy, with all its 
hypocritical meannesses and priestly intrigues ! ” 

“Take care what you say. Jacob!” exclaimed the Mar- 


CURRITA 


209 


chioness, energetically, “or you will lead me to think your 
Bismarckian policy conceals some infamy.” 

“ Yours, yes, conceals an intrigue in which Father Cifuen- 
tes’ hand is visible.” 

“ Father Cifuentes’ hand! Poor Father Cifuentes ! You 
have no doubt discovered it from the mountain of Tai-San, 
which you ascended just now. For myself, as I live on level 
ground, I cannot detect it.” 

Jacob, tapping the top of the table with both gloves, was 
silent. The Marchioness asked him finally, without losing 
her serene calmness : — 

“ So you positively decline to sign? ” 

“ I shall not sign,” replied Jacob, angrily. 

“ Well, it is evident, if the reconciliation is not effected, 
you alone are to blame ; for your wife has yielded as much 
as it is possible to yield, and you, by your own obstinacy, 
which is very suspicious, destroy all that has been done ! ” 

“ I destroy all that you or that blessed Cifuentes may have 
plotted ; but I will have an understanding with Elvira.” 

“ Elvira will not come to Biarritz.” 

“ Very well, I will go wherever she is.” 

“ I wager you will not ! ” 

“By Jove ! ” exclaimed Jacob, exasperated. “ Are these 
your G-od-fearing people? Where has my wife gained her 
independent notions? We are not legally separated, and the 
law authorizes me to reclaim my wife and son when I please.” 

The Marchioness drew herself up in her arm-chair, in an 
arrogant and menacing manner, for the first time displaying 
her powerful eagle’s-wings, and with her closed hand gave a 
vigorous blow upon the table, saying at the same time : — 

“ Try to do so ! Dare to do so, and the moment you take 
the first step she will present before the court a plea for 
divorce which will completely ruin you.” 

The aspect, the voice, and the energetic contempt of this 
threat overcame Jacob for a moment ; but, quickly recover- 
ing his audacity he replied, full of rage : — 

“ Let her present it, if she likes. Where are the proofs ?* 

14 


210 


CURRITA 


44 She has them in her possession, sufficient to obtain a 
divorce, and more than enough to imprison whoever may 
deserve it.” 

4 4 Maria ! ” 

“Jacob! Did you think that, for the simple reason of 
being good, your wife must be always a martyr? Patience 
has a limit which decorum sometimes marks, and, alas for 
foxes, when lambs cease to be lambs ! ” 

The Marchioness’s terrible insinuation frightened Jacob in 
the midst of his perturbation and rage, and he tried to find 
out if the existence of these proofs was only a mere pretence. 

44 You cannot frighten me with words,” he exclaimed ironi- 
cally. 4 4 My conscience tells me such proofs do not exist, 
and I do not believe it.” 

44 Well, we’ll see if your eyes will convince your con- 
science,” replied the Marchioness, quickly. And opening with 
a jerk the little drawer of the secretaire , she showed Jacob 
from a distance a package of four or five letters, saying: — 

4 4 In truth, Rosa Penarron’s handwriting and yours are so 
clear that connoisseurs would not be needed in court to 
identify them.” 

All the blood in Jacob’s body rushed to his face, and by 
one of those brutal impulses when instinct shows itself in 
the natural man and not in the civilized man, he made a 
motion as if to snatch them from the lady. But the latter, 
quick as lightning, sprang to the open window, and leaning 
half-way out, with the letters in her hand, cried with great 
vehemence : — 

44 Monina! you will fall, child! Don’t jump any more. 
Mademoiselle, take the rope away from her.” Turning after- 
wards towards Jacob, a trifle pale but perfectly calm, she 
added, without leaving the window : — 

44 1 thought she would kill herself ! These little devils of 
children are always frightening one.” 

Jacob had remained glued to his seat, but now 
stammered: — 

44 Is Monina with you? ” 


CURRITA 


211 


“ Of course she is! How could I be without my child? 
Have you never seen her? Would you like me to call her? ” 

And without waiting for an answer she called again from 
the window : — 

44 Mademoiselle ! bring the child here.” 

Monina soon appeared, followed by the governess, and ran 
to jump in her grandmother’s lap, looking at Jacob with the 
half smile of a spoiled child petted by everybody, which 
seemed to say to the stranger, 4 4 Are you not going to tell 
me I am very pretty ? ” 

Jacob, completely surprised, took no notice of her, trying 
in vain to guess how Elvira had gotten possession of these 
letters, which were irrefutable proofs of one of the most 
shameful and compromising episodes of his life. The Mar- 
chioness embraced her grandchild as she would her guardian 
angel, thanking God from the bottom of her heart for having 
given Jacob this final blow with a tin-bladed sword ; for these 
terrible papers with which her presence of mind and energetic 
audacity had annihilated the farceur were simply three or 
four letters from her lawyers, which she kept in the little 
drawer of the secretaire. The shameful fact was certain, 
but the proofs did not exist; and Rosa Penarron, the only 
accomplice, having been dead for two years, it was impossible 
that Jacob could ever discover the deception. The astute 
Antonelli had forever secured Bismarck with a spider’s mesh. 

Jacob, without bestowing upon the child a single caress, 
coldly took his leave, and Monina watched him go, sucking, 
with the air of an offended lady, three fingers at the same 
time. Still bewildered and full of rage, Jacob quickly 
entered the carriage and gave orders to the coachman to 
drive to Bayonne, to the H6tel Saint-fitienne, where he had 
put up the night before. Biarritz was too small for one to 
remain hidden there, or to avoid embarrassing meetings 
with the Carlist and Alfonsist emigrants and grasping poli- 
ticians of all classes who peopled the environs, and who, 
since the fall of Don Amadeo and the proclamation of the 
Republic, had increased the number of scattered Spaniards. 


212 


CURRITA 


Jacob’s undeceiving had been cruel, and his situation 
again became most painful, upon seeing all his illusions 
put to flight, leaving only in his soul a terrible anxiety and 
rage, which kindled in his heart against the Marchioness of 
Villasis and Father Cifuentes the implacable hatred which 
the wicked feel for those who, they know, have a right to 
despise them. Of all the wounds which the routed plenipo- 
tentiary of Constantinople carried in his soul, none afflicted 
his vanity so much, or irritated his pride more, than that his 
conquerors had been a devotee and a friar. In the paroxysm 
of his rage, he almost felt like strangling the sly Marchioness 
of Villasis with the bandana handkerchief of the hypocritical 
Cifuentes. 


PART II 


CHAPTER I 

Memorable was that night. Pedro Lopez announced, the 
following day, in the columns of the Fleur de Lis , that the 
spirit of Meyerbeer had abandoned the mansions of Harmony 
to inspire the overture of Dinorah at the Royal Theatre. 
Pedro Lopez had seen something impalpable and harmonious, 
which revealed itself in the voices of the singers and in the 
echoes of the orchestra, descend from the chariot of Phoebus 
which decorated the ceiling, and diffuse itself through the 
intoxicating atmosphere of the splendid hall. . . . Villa- 
melon had also seen something. Seated with his back to 
the stage in the rear of the box, his pensive head resting on 
the thin partition, and his eyes fixed upon the ceiling, he re- 
ceived in full the formidable blast of the hideous JEolus, 
who, standing behind the chariot of Phoebus, seemed to be 
blowing forth pneumonia and catarrh upon the bald pates 
seen in perspective of the hairless lovers of music. Currita, 
seated towards the front of the box, opposite Leopoldina 
Pastor, was entranced by the sublime triplet of the bell, the 
finale of the first act, when the thunder muttering in the dis- 
tance, between the deafening clamor of bass viols and soft 
murmur of violins, sweet, delicate, and exquisite, seemed to 
reveal the warm breath of the approaching tempest, the 
fluttering of the leaves of the trees already shaken by the 
first gusts of wind, and the vague earthy perfumes which 
announce the coming rain. 


Che oscuro £ il ciel ! 


214 


CUR RITA 


Currita, as moved as Dinorah herself, who attempts in 
vain to stop Beliak, the beloved white goat, glanced out of 
the corner of her eye at the Yeloz Club box, where, gossiping 
and laughing among themselves, were Gorito Sardona, Paco 
Yelez, Diogenes, Angelito Castropardo, and behind them all, 
conspicuous by his elegant attitude and haughty air, was 
Jacob Sabadell, his opera-glass levelled with most imperti- 
nent insistency upon another box, which Currita could not 
see, as it was directly over her own. 

‘ ‘ Delicious ! ” said Currita, more and more moved ; for at 
that moment the goat escaped, Dinorah ran after it, Hoel 
dragged Corentino away half mad with terror, and the 
orchestra died away slowly, pianissimo , in a soft murmur, 
dominating which, far, far, and still farther away, like a 
dim, mysterious, and magic echo, was heard the vibrating 
tinkle of Beliak’s silver bell . 1 

The curtain now fell, and the audience remained for a 
moment speechless with admiration, still listening in this 
silence, in which one could have heard a leaf fall, and fas- 
cinated by that species of mild fear which the feeling of the 
sublime infuses in the soul. A tempest of bravos and ap- 
plauses finally broke forth in the theatre, and Yillamelon 
then awoke from his reverie, exclaiming with an air of pro- 
found conviction: — 

“ Just as I thought! The quail vol-au-vent always gives 
me indigestion ! ” 

Currita, also subduing her artistic emotion, leaned quickly 
towards Leopoldina, whispering to her excitedly : — 

“ My dear! Whom can Jacob be staring at like that, in 
the upper box?” Leopoldina slowly turned her head, with 
that inimitable art which women have of seeing without look- 
ing, and cast a rapid glance at the Yeloz Club box. The 
men were moving to and fro, and Jacob, standing in the 
box, was gazing through his opera-glass with most dis- 
tinguished insolence in the direction indicated by Currita, 

1 The technical analysis of this opera is taken from a criticism by 
Senor Pena y Goni. 


CURRITA 


215 


heedless of the facetious observations which, to judge by 
their laughter, his companions seemed to be making to him. 
Diogenes, gazing also in the same direction, caught Jacob 
by the arm, making at the same time, with his left hand, a 
large cross in the air. The men in the box laughed boister- 
ously, and Leopoldina said very seriously : — 

“ Look! Diogenes has just married them.” 

Currita, much annoyed, again asked : — 

“ But who can be there ? ” 

Leopoldina, an enthusiastic dilettante , who always went 
free to all the boxes of the Royal, had at her finger tips the 
leases of every tier, and the names of the subscribers of 
every section. She calculated a moment the direction in 
which the occupants of the Veloz box were looking, and 
finally said: — 

“ I don’t know who it can be. That box is not leased.” 
Fernandito, with his hands in his trousers pockets, gave 
little taps on the floor with his foot, saying timidly : — 
u I am very much bored. Do you know, Curra? ” 

Curra knew nothing, nor did she seem either to wish to 
know anything, but meanwhile asked Leopoldina to go, 
during the intermission, and visit Carmen Tagle’s stall, 
whence she could have a full view of the incognitas or in- 
cognita of the upper box. The proposal anything but 
pleased Leopoldina, but it was impossible to refuse this 
small service to the generous friend in whose box, carriage, 
and at whose table, she always had a place at her disposal. 
For Leopoldina was one of those persons of inferior rank, 
busybodies and parasites, who suffer any number of annoy- 
ances and slights, in order to appear in the eyes of the 
vulgar to be always on terms of intimacy with the first 
figures of fashion and of the nobility. Her brother’s brass- 
buttons and the captain-generalship of Madrid which the 
latter had held for some time, had given her en tree to the 
beau monde and there she had established herself and taken 
out naturalization papers. Villamelon, still tapping his foot, 
reiterated for the hundredth time, most miserably : — 


216 


CURRITA 


44 Don’t you understand, Curra? I am ill.” 

44 Fernandito, for Heaven’s sake ! Don’t tell me so.” 

44 It is indigestion. The quail vol-au-vent . It always 
gives me indigestion. I am certain of it. Do you under- 
stand, Curra?” 

44 What shall we do, my love*! Try and walk a little ; it 
will do you good. Go with Leopoldina, and come back 
quickly.” 

And more and more impatient, she admonished the latter 
in a whisper : — 

“Don’t let Carmen suspect why you go. Be sure and 
find out who they are, on the sly.” 

Villamelon, making faces, took the liberty to say : — 

44 Perhaps at home — ” 

44 Home? Nonsense, my dear; what would you do there 
all alone? Suppose anything should happen to you. No, 
by no means ; go with Leopoldina, and walk back slowly.” 

The Duke of Bringas entered the box, and shortly after- 
wards Uncle Frasquito came in, accompanying his niece Maria 
Valdivieso, overflowing as usual with enthusiasm and folly, 
gossip and stories. La Ortolani was a prodigy. What a 
berceuse that: Si carina caprettina! Uncle Frasquito did 
not agree with her. The romance L’incantator della mon- 
tagna pleased him much more, and he was trying it on the 
flute, utterly regardless of King Midas’s mishap, which for 
sometime previous Diogenes had prophesied would happen 
to Frasquito. The Duke of Bringas was much annoyed be- 
cause the score did not please him ; it was nothing more 
than a French comic opera, converted into Italian opera, 
and as far as Ortolani was concerned, psch! — she did not 
vocalize badly, but she was so thin! 

44 As if she was obliged to have chubby cheeks to sing 
well! ” exclaimed Maria Valdivieso, with much good sense. 
And changing the conversation she began to tell Currita a 
very facetious story about the Duchess of Bara, who was 
seated just below them in the Lopez Morenos’ box. The 
latter now being restored to their throne in Matapuerca, 


CURRITA 


217 


Lucy was at last going to marry Gonzalito, the Duchess 
haying agreed to swallow her as a daughter-in-law. So 
Paco Yelez had said. 

4 4 1 thought so ! ” exclaimed Currita, with malignant com- 
placency; 44 just like her to talk behind the girl’s back, and 
end by giving her her blessing and taking her under her 
wing.” 

44 Exactly ! Paco Yelez said the very same thing. There 
they both are, cooing away in the box, publishing the marriage 
banns. Paco Yelez says there have been more stories afloat! 
Lopez Moreno laid siege to Beatrice’s property, and between 
the attachment and the wedding there was nothing to do but 
capitulate. Beatrice delivered over the dukedom, the other 
cancelled the debt, and everything was arranged. But the 
most amusing thing of all is, that Lucy will bestow a dot 
upon Gonzalito of four millions.” 

4 4 How delicious ! So in case of being left a widower, 
Gonzalito will always be prince douarier ; that is to say, 
douarier of Matapuerca.” 

The Duke and Uncle Frasquito thought they would die 
laughing at Currita’s repartee, and the Countess of Yaldi- 
vieso added also, shaking with laughter: — 

44 Exactly ! What a happy idea ! I must certainly tell 
Paco Yelez. Le Prince do uarier of Matapuerca ! We will 
give him the name, by all means ; just at present they are 
laboriously trying to discover Lucy’s genealogical tree.” 

44 Well, my dear, I can give it to you intact. On the first 
branch you will find the Bad Thief, and Lopez Moreno will 
be hung on the last.” 

44 Curra, you are in your zenith tonight! ” exclaimed the 
Yaldivieso, convulsed with laughter. “What would Bea- 
trice say at Lucy’s tree being disposed of in that way? 
Paco Yelez says that Lopez Moreno is tremendously rich.” 

Here she stopped a moment as if surprised, and looking 
attentively towards the auditorium, added with her accus- 
tomed volatility : — 

44 My dear, do you see that? — Jacob over there with 


218 


CURRITA 


Izabel Mazacan? How scandalous! Why do you allow 
such a thing ? ” 

Had Currita seen that? As if the boiling within her was 
not the nervous muse which had that night inspired her 
sharp answers ! For from the moment the curtain fell she 
had not lost sight of Jacob for an instant, watching him 
begin his tournee through the boxes, all the ladies receiving 
him with open arms, and spoiling and caressing him with 
their most enchanting smiles and sweetest words. Izabel 
Mazacan, especially, seemed to be inclined to eat him up, 
and two or three times while he was in the box with her 
she glanced towards Currita, with a look which seemed to 
say, ‘ ‘ Rave away ! ” 

He received all these homages with the exquisite ease, 
and distinguished insouciance of the born elegant, who knows 
himself to be the fashion and leader of the day, whose 
smiles are sought after, sayings repeated, wardrobe copied, 
and coughings and sneezings enumerated and commented 
upon. Never had Madrid accorded a pardon more generous 
or more gracious than that conceded the former revolu- 
tionary upon learning of his novel adventure in Constanti- 
nople, and upon seeing him re-enter the aristocratic fold, 
under the patronage of Butron and the Countess of Albor- 
noz, repentant, but with his head held high, — not asking, 
but rather offering protection to all. 

In the innermost recesses of boudoirs and in secret political 
meetings strange things were whispered. It was said that 
Jacob had done a great service to the Restoration party, 
completely foiling with certain mysterious papers three in- 
triguing and swindling personages, who, ever covetous of 
power and money, had tried in Biarritz, after the fall of 
Amadeo, traitorously to co-operate in the Restoration of the 
throne, which they themselves had helped to overthrow five 
years before. Whether or not this was true, it was certain 
that the worthy Butron had suddenly thrown over Jacob the 
protecting mantle of his confidence, and that Currita had 
offered him the disinterested friendship of her beloved spouse 


CURRITA 


219 


Fernandito. In these remote recesses of the boudoirs also, 
as well as on the broad sidewalks of the public plazas, the 
three personages were dubbed with the names of the young 
Telemachus, the prudent Mentor, and the invulnerable 
Calypso, — whispers at the same time circulating that Jacob 
was ruined, but that the Restoration guaranteed his future 
by insuring him a cabinet portfolio in payment for his ser- 
vices; Currita meanwhile attending to his wants with a 
magnificence which threatened to completely destroy the, 
until then, well grounded fortune of the opulent house of 
Villamelon. 

“ It is only natural,” said the Duchess of Bara one night. 
“Curra is already fanee , and Jacob is no Juanito Velarde, 
to be maintained by any post of twenty thousand dollars.” 
Meanwhile Leopoldina Pastor, entering Carmen Tagle’s box, 
kissed her upon both cheeks and whispered : — 

“ I have just escaped! ” 

‘ ‘ My dear ! from whom ? ” 

“ From Curra, that Curra, who is simply odious, dear, 
odious. I will never be seen in public with her again. I do 
not care for scenes ; nor do I like scandals. So I said to 
myself, 4 If only for this one entr'acte I will get rid of her and 
go to Carmen.’ ” 

“ Thanks, dear, for the choice.” 

“ You are welcome, dear. She is dying to know who is in 
the upper box ; and all because Monsieur does nothing but 
stare in that direction.” 

Leopoldina, upon saying this, seized Carmen Tagle’s 
mother-of-pearl opera-glasses, and began to look towards the 
box which made Currita so uneasy. In it were two ladies, 
one quite young, seated towards the front, and the other of 
already mature age, nearly hidden in the background. The 
first seemed to be but a mere child, delicate and fantastic, 
one of those spirituelle little blond, cat-like women, who are 
reared on the banks of the Seine, and who really have, as a 
rule, all the cunning tricks of the feline race. Seated with 
her back to the stage, she looked as if she had never broken 


220 


CURRITA 


a plate in all the days of her life, and glanced about the 
splendid hall, without allowing her eyes to rest upon any 
particular spot, in the indifferent manner of one who gazes 
upon a completely unknown multitude. She seemed to be 
there more to be seen than to see, and the exaggerated ele- 
gance, somewhat extravagant, of her gown of black velvet, 
with red camellias, clearly showed her preconceived idea of 
attracting everybody’s attention. Her companion, who was 
probably her mother, was a very thin woman of rather dis- 
tinguished appearance, with gray hair combed a V anglais , 
her high-necked dress of black velvet adorned with an attract- 
ive set of false diamonds. Both seemed to be foreigners, 
and during the entire evening did not exchange a single word. 
Leopoldina examined them attentively, and finally said, 
shaking her head : — 

“ Black and red ; very bad, — the devil’s colors. And who 
are these people ? ” 

Carmen Tagle laughed, shrugging her shoulders, and Leo- 
poldina continued to examine them with the glass, remarking 
at the same time : — 

“ Well, I must say the mother could well afford to spare 
some of her gown, which reaches to her ears, to lessen a little 
her daughter’s decollete. Out upon the good-for-nothing ! 
But the girl is really beautiful. What is her name?” 

“ No one knows. Tuesday she appeared in that same box, 
dressed in white with pink camellias. Yesterday she was at 
the Castellana, in a very smart milord, with camellias in her 
hat and in her dress. To-night she is wearing black velvet 
with red camellias.” 

“ But now we have a name for her,” exclaimed Leopoldina, 
laughing. “ 4 Camille,’ of course.” 

And with these thin materials the two friends amused 
themselves, improvising a lively fiction, until Leopoldina, a 
few moments before the second act, returned to the Albornoz 
box. Currita was impatiently awaiting her, and the falla- 
cious explorer hastened to tell her, with a certain malignant 
enjoyment, that the incognita in question was a very beau- 


CURRITA 


221 


tiful young girl, a total stranger to everybody, whom they 
had just christened with the significant name of “Camille.” 

“ Of course you did not let Carmen know I sent you,” said 
Currita, thoughtfully ; and Leopoldina, with her small nose 
turned up and eyebrows raised, as one offended by the ques- 
tion, replied : — 

“ My dear! What an idea ! Do you think I am stupid? ” 

The act began. Villamelon’s indigestion was no better; 
Currita, still furious, sat with the corner of her eye on the 
alert. Leopoldina, who was really talented and intelligent, 
did not lose a note of the opera, and Uncle Frasquito stayed 
on, thoroughly well satisfied to find himself by the side of 
Leopoldina, one of his favorite spurious nieces, because of 
her masculine and decided attractions and eccentric geniality. 
In the Yeloz box Diogenes and Jacob were now alone; the 
former sitting stupidly facing the audience, as if wishing to 
show he did not care a fig for the whole lot of them, and the 
latter still staring like a cadet at the box of la dame aux 
Camelias. On the stage Dinorah, the poor maniac, was 
singing the exquisite aria, inspired by her own shadow pro- 
jected on the ground by the white light of the moon. It was 
one of Meyerbeer’s happiest inspirations and was admirably 
interpreted by the then famous Ortolani. 

The scene presently changed, and the cascade, the preci- 
pice, and the torrent drew a murmur of admiration from the 
spectators, who had not often witnessed such a finished and 
beautiful work of art. Hoel tries to compel the piper Coren- 
tino to find the treasure at the bottom of the precipice ; the 
sky again becomes overcast, and Meyerbeer again appears, 
the terrible genius of the Huguenots, and Robert le diable , 
who knows so well how to describe, with the eight notes of 
the staff, all the raging of the elements and fury of the 
heart. 

The orchestra suddenly and brusquely breaks the rhythm, 
the bass-viols roar clamorously, the flutes send forth sharp, 
hissing sounds, while the trumpets, bursting all bounds, 
thunder forth with frightful violence, which the drums re- 


222 


CURRITA 


echo convulsively. This was no longer a tempest, nor a 
hurricane, but a deluge, which threatened to destroy the 
earth ; and at this supreme moment of the opera, a hairy 
and sallow face appeared between the crimson velvet 
curtains at the back of Currita’s box, which Uncle Frasquito 
took to be the terrible Adamastor, the genius of tempests, 
and Fernandito thought was the bilious spectre of indiges- 
tion, which his outraged gastric organs had evoked before 
him. It was Butron, the worthy Butron, who had come in 
on tiptoe, with his finger on his lips, making signs for no 
one to move, and seating himself in the chair, which, not- 
withstanding his fright and his secret annoyance, Villamelon 
had hastened to yield him by Currita’s side. The tempest 
still raged; Hoel and Corentino groaned with terror, and 
Dinorah, the poor maniac, having broken away, with her 
hair flying and her countenance illuminated by the glare of 
the lightning, defied the fury of the elements ; her voice, 
pure and vibrating, dominating the hoarse crashing of the 
thunder and the wailing cry of the wind, which also drowned 
these brief words, whispered by Butron to Currita : — 

“ The hour has arrived ; Concha is with us ! ” 

A slight exclamation of surprise escaped the latter, which 
Uncle Frasquito accidentally overheard ; but a flash of blue 
lightning at this moment illumined the scene, and an im- 
mense chromatic scale, born in the heights of the orchestra, 
and dying away in the depths of the bass-viols with a faint 
and ominous murmur, showed that the thunderbolt had 
struck ; and between lightning and thunder and the sublime 
convulsions of the stringed instruments, he lost what Bu- 
tron added, being able to distinguish only these words, 
repeated by the diplomat with great emphasis : — 

“ To-morrow at four o’clock at my house. Whatever 
you do, don’t fail, or neglect to inform Jacob.” 

Curiosity caused Uncle Frasquito completely to lose his 
head, and wishing to take in everything at once, he saw 
neither Beliak, the white goat, cross like a flash the little 
rustic bridge, nor Dinorah fall to the bottom of the hill, 


CURRITA 


223 


nor Hoel throw himself down in desperation to her aid, nor 
Currita, who, making signs and clasping her fan with inex- 
plicable rage, whispered very low to Butron : — 

“Inform Jacob? Is it probable that I shall see him 
to-night? He has already visited all the boxes and as yet 
has not even looked at me.” 

“ Ah ! ingrate ! ” murmured Butron. “ I will go at once 
and bring him.” 

And he went away as he had come, on tiptoe, and smil- 
ing at everybody, making mute signs for no one to disturb 
themselves, and leaving Uncle Frasquito stupefied. Ah! 
but they needn’t think they could deceive him. Currita 
at four o’clock in Butron’s house, and informing Jacob 
beforehand? Something important was about to happen, 
if the prudent Mentor, the young Telemachus, and the in- 
vulnerable Calypso were to have a secret interview, with 
the odd circumstance that the lady would go to the gentle- 
man’s house, instead of the gentleman going to the lady’s 
palace, as the most rudimentary laws of gallantry would 
seem to dictate. 

“ A most singularr thing! ” 

And looking at Jacob from a distance, his curiosity in- 
creased upon seeing Butron lift the curtain of the Veloz 
box, make a sign to Jacob, and both walk off together, the 
cynical Diogenes following them without being asked. The 
act finished, Butron, triumphant and satisfied, again entered 
Currita’s box, this time with Jacob, and pushing him 
towards the lady with the air of an easy-going papa who 
indulges a daughter’s caprice, seized, with one of his hands, 
the lady’s hand and Jacob’s, which they had mutually 
clasped upon greeting each other, and murmured with 
sententious indulgence Shakespeare’s words: “Old, old 
history ! ” 

This done, the mirror of gentlemen, according to Pedro 
Lopez, the sincere diplomat, judicious politician, and vener- 
able and fervent old man, who already had one foot in the 
grave, glanced at his watch, raised his eyebrows, and 


224 


CURRITA 


hurriedly took his leave. It was already eleven o’clock ; at 
quarter-past he had an appointment with the Cardinal Arch- 
bishop of Toledo. The business on hand treated of an 
attempt against the Church by the canaille of the republican 
government, and he desired to play in this conflict the role 
of Constantine. 

Uncle Frasquito’s spirits rose as he believed the hour had 
come to find out something, and he cocked his ears and 
sharpened his tongue in order cleverly to sound Jacob and 
Currita. But suddenly a perfidious hand grasped the medi- 
tative knot of his white cravat, and wheeling it rapidly 
round, deposited it on the nape of his neck. He turned, 
indignant and surprised, to see bending over him Dio- 
genes’ great head, who smiling and drivelling said to him, 
lovingly: — 

“ Francesca, my own ! It is no one but Paolo ! ” 
Francesca turned white with rage and yellow with fear, 
as if behind Paolo he had seen the sinister shadow of Gion- 
ciotto, and muttered between his teeth: “What a nui- 
sance ! Really, you are a great bore ! ” 

And taking a hurried leave, for fear of some other serious 
mishap, he went into the adjoining dressing-room to arrange 
his cravat, thus leaving his chair vacant, which was what 
Diogenes wanted. The latter took possession of it with the 
utmost coolness, and giving Villamelon a sound slap on the 
hip said something so atrocious relative to his digestive 
organs that Jacob and Leopoldina glanced at each other 
spontaneously, as if to say, “Brute!” and Currita, very 
much annoyed, said: “Heavens! What a man! You are 
very shocking, really.” 

Fern andito with a resigned smile answered: “The quail 
vol-au-vent always gives me indigestion, you know ! ” 

“ I should think I did know, Polaina ! that ’s why I always 
take garlic soup vol-au-vent,” replied Diogenes. And yield- 
ing to his natural impertinent instinct he added: “ Tell me, 
in whose carriage am I to go home after the opera ; yours 
or Jacob’s?” 


CURRITA 225 

“Not in mine,” replied the latter, quickly; “I am leav- 
ing at once.” 

“Nor in mine, either,” added Curnta. “Fernandito is 
not well, and we are certainly not going out of our way 
for any one.” 

“But, my dear woman ; it is just on your way; you have 
only to leave me at Dona Mariquita’s cafe. Not for the 
world would I miss my mug of chocolate and couple of 
mojicones. ” 1 

“ They are very good indeed,” opined Villamelon. 

“How delicious!” said Currita. “If they would stick 
in your throat every night you would not have such a long 
tongue.” 

“ Polaina 1 If they could only stick you in the same 
place, there would be no reason for the tongue to annoy 
you.” 

Currita bit her lip, realizing it was impossible to argue 
with this savage, who seemed to amuse himself by throwing 
into relief, with his rude sayings, the shameless condescen- 
sions of the world, and Jacob took an affectionate leave, at 
the beginning of the last act, with an ambiguous “Until 
later,” which left Currita very well satisfied. In the middle 
of the act, when Dinorah, recovering her reason, seeks to 
recall the exquisite prayer Sancta Maria ! amidst the sub- 
lime quaverings of the orchestra, which seemed to reveal 
the mental efforts of the poor maniac, Currita, enveloping 
herself in her superb wrap of maroon velvet lined with 
white fur, and accepting Diogenes’ arm in token of recon- 
ciliation, left the box accompanied by Villamelon and Leo- 
poldina ; the former delighted to be at last on the way to 
sleep off his attack of indigestion, and the latter furious 
that she must leave without hearing the final chorus of the 
Pilgrims. 

The foyer was as yet deserted, and the footmen, ducking 
their red noses in their immense fur collars, were already 

1 Sort of sweetmeat. — Tr. 

15 


226 


CURRITA 


beginning to assemble, in order to announce to their masters 
the arrival of the carriages. Currita now conceived the idea 
of seating herself upon a divan to await the exit of the 
people. Villamelon was miserable. 

“ My dear Curra ! What are you about ? It is freezing 
cold here ! ” 

And he hastily tied a large and very fine silk handkerchief 
around his neck, and pulled up the collar of his great-coat 
until it reached his ears. 

“I tell you it is much better to return to the box, if — ” 

A formidable sneeze interrupted him, and his misery 
increased. 

“You see! you see! I have taken a fine cold. I am in 
luck to-night, do you understand? — I am in for a week 
of it.” 

The people began to file out in front of Leopoldina, and 
the Countess of Albornoz leaving Fernandito to sneeze, and 
without losing sight of the business on hand, bowed right 
and left to her innumerable acquaintances. Presently Leo- 
poldina pulled Currita’s dress softly, saying in a very low 
voice : — 

“ Look ! There she is.” 

She saw nothing; two white phantoms passed before her, 
dragging beneath their ample opera-cloaks their long black 
velvet trains, the elder lady showing through her protecting 
hood a sharp, aquiline nose, and the younger woman only 
displaying a pair of large blue eyes, which Currita thought 
were fixed upon herself with provoking insolence. The in- 
cognita’s white Albornoz cloak grazed Currita’s wrap of 
maroon velvet, and some words in German were uttered, 
which the latter heard, but could not understand, “ This is 
she ,” and which seemed to fall from the lips of the one with 
the sharp, aquiline nose, both phantoms disappearing through 
the crowd, preceded by a smart young groom who could 
scarcely be more than twelve years of age. 

“ But, my dear, shall we ever be going? ” said Villamelon 
meanwhile. u Diogenes, give her your arm. A nice cold 


CURRITA 


227 


have I caught! What do you do when you have a cold, 
Diogenes ? ” 

“ What do I do? Sneeze ! ” 


CHAPTER II 

Butron struck the furniture with his fists, and crossed the 
room with long strides, calling his wife, as usual, sometimes 
Geno and again Veva, but never by her full name, Genoveva, 
and lavishing upon her with all their syllables the epithets 
“imbecile,” “stupid,” “wife of the devil,” and “bigoted 
devotee,” who, ignorant of everything except the Pater 
Noster, wished to give him lectures, — him, a Pyrrhus in 
genius, a Ulysses in prudence, an Anteus in valor, an Alexan- 
der in magnanimity, and a Scipio in good fortune. 

There are some curious domestic scenes of the family 
hearth, which would seem most improbable to those who 
only know the official side of great personages, and which 
should be sculptured as bas-reliefs upon the pedestals which 
public opinion and the mob erect to many of the social pro- 
totypes who shine in academies, and congresses, drawing- 
rooms and salons. 

The Marchioness, an old lady of spotless virtue and fine 
education, listened to this torrent of abuse mute and motion- 
less, with her head bowed and her eyes full of tears, like 
the statue of patience contemplating its own sufferings. 
Twice she attempted to interrupt her husband, by showing 
him a letter which" she held in her hand ; but the cries and 
affronts of the wise diplomat intimidated and perturbed her, 
and she was forced to keep silence. Such scenes as those 
of Lauzun threatening his wife, the Duchess of Montpensier, 
with his cane, and shouting to her, “Louise of Bourbon, 
pull off my boots ! ” were doubtless not unknown to the un- 
happy Marchioness. 


228 


CURRITA 


Both husband and wife were in the diplomat’s private 
study, a vast room, in former times decorated with severe 
magnificence, but over which the years had flown, leaving 
cracks and crevices, stains and shadows, which the small 
retired pay of the nobleman had not as yet been sufficient to 
repair. At one end of the room, behind a large screen with 
nine folds, of Coromandel lacquer, peeling off in every direc- 
tion, was a large table strewn with papers, and surrounded 
by artistic chests of drawers, all within hand’s-reach. This 
was Butron’s sanctum sanctorum , where onty those initiated 
in the affairs and manoeuvres of the diplomat were permitted 
to enter. At the other end of the room, opposite a large 
glass window overlooking the garden, and next to a black 
marble mantelpiece, was a large square table of the seven- 
teenth century, made of walnut, with specious carvings and 
fluted irons, while comfortable lounges and luxurious arm- 
chairs, somewhat faded and very much worn, were placed 
around it. Here Butron received those privileged to cross the 
threshold of his private study. Everywhere, on the tables, 
upon the two mantels, on the chests of drawers, and hanging 
from the walls, could be seen portraits of kings, princes, and 
illustrious personages, some being photographs and others 
magnificent steel engravings, with pompous dedications to the 
loyal diplomat, which proclaimed his great acquaintanceship 
and his high influence. Upon a sofa of rich Japanese skins, 
all sunken in and peeling away, was placed in a conspicuous 
place a large photograph of Prince Alfonso, in the scholar’s 
uniform of Maria Theresa’s College, with the following dedi- 
cation in the handwriting of the future monarch : “To the 
loyal Marquis of Butron, model of gentlemen. — Souvenir of 
the second of December, 1870. Alfonso.” This solemn 
date was that of the day upon which Butron had his first 
audience after the Revolution with their dethroned Majesties, 
when he swore, at the feet of the royal child, to restore him 
to the Spanish throne or die in the attempt. 

In another part of the room, on either side of a large suit 
of armor, full of rust and out of repair, were two handsome 


CUERITA 


229 


engravings of Louis Philippe and Queen Amelie, with con- 
spicuous dedications from both ; and among another lot of 
regal, political, and literary notabilities, distributed in all 
directions, was a lithograph portrait of Martinez de la Rosa, 
taken at the time when he was called Rosila la pastelera and 
which bore this homely inscription : To Pepillo Butron, from 
his dominie Paco. 

But among all these testimonials of high esteem, the most 
curious was a handsome photograph of the Queen of Eng- 
land, placed with affected ease on the mantel-piece, upon a 
small easel of oxidized silver, whose hangings parti} 7 covered 
the honorable dedication. Her Britannic Majesty had be- 
stowed it upon him in Rome, as an acknowledgment of 
some well-timed service, and, desiring to show him the most 
exquisite deference, had inscribed her autograph in Spanish. 
But her Gracious Majesty evidently was not well skilled in 
the tongue of Cervantes, and it being her intention to write, 
according to the English construction, “To the Marquis of 
Butron, recuerdo ,” she left out the “u” and the result 
was : “To the Marquis of Butron, recerdo” 1 — signed and 
subscribed in the handwriting of her Gracious Majesty, the 
sovereign of the three united kingdoms and also Empress 
of the Indies. 

The astonishment of Butron was great upon seeing him- 
self reduplicatively placed, by this startling syncope, upon 
the most discreditable branch of the extensive pachyderm 
family, and he hastened cleverly to place the regal keepsake 
in a frame, which, without altogether hiding the honorable 
inscription, would at least cover her Britannic Majesty’s 
unfortunate slip of the pen. 

Great events were taking place, and the dispute which 
Butron was sustaining with his wife had its. origin in them. 
On the third of January Pavia gave the final blow to the 
infant Republic, which went to pieces at the echo of three or 
four shots discharged in the congressional corridors. Power 
fell again into Serrano’s clutches, and the general disorder 
l Cerdo — hog. — Tr. 


230 


CURRITA 


and lack of discipline in the army, which fought without faith 
and without hope in those two great flood-gates of Cartha- 
gena and the North, which swallowed torrents of blood and 
rivers of money, proved to the patient Alfonsists, waiting 
with folded arms, that the hour was approaching when they 
might seize the already well matured fruit. Aristophanes’ 
scene in his comedy “Peace,” when the pacific Trigeo 
ascends Mt. Olympus mounted upon a black beetle, was 
being enacted in Spain. Olympus was deserted, with only 
War and Ruin there to grind into atoms an entire nation, 
while an ambitious general acted as their ally. 

Another general, of much prestige for courage and pru- 
dence, now took it upon himself to bend towards the Alfon- 
sists the branch upon which hung the appetizing and much 
contested fruit. This was General Concha, who having ac- 
cepted the command of the Northern army, left for Bilbao, 
determined to re-establish discipline, and to annihilate the 
Carlists by proclaiming young Prince Alfonso King of Spain. 
It was, however, necessary first of all to obtain resources 
for the army; but depleted purses, alarmed covetousness, 
and latent egotism greatly hindered the execution of the 
project. The Marquis of Butron’s ingenuity now came into 
play, and at the head of his feminine hosts he undertook 
the task of solving the difficulty. He conceived the idea of 
provisionally forming an association of women, with the 
object of helping the wounded soldiers of the North, which 
should have branch associations in all parts of Spain, thus 
collecting resources of all kinds, to be generously distributed 
to the army in the name of the Alfonsist women, — in this 
way preparing the people to second the movement . 1 

1 Many were the associations of women founded at this time with 
the object of helping the wounded soldiers of the North, the most ben- 
eficent results being obtained from that presided over by the illustrious 
and virtuous Marchioness of Miraflores, whose name has always ap- 
peared in connection with all good and charitable works. It seems 
useless to inform the reader that the association which we describe has 
nothing to do with any of the above, and that, although assuming their 
characteristic traits, it is in its make-up purely an invention of our own. 


CURRITA 


231 


The plan was enthusiastically approved by the leaders of 
the party, and the great Robinson then concentrated the 
energetic activity which characterized him in organizing the 
central association of women at the Court. He devoted 
himself first of all to the selection of the President, the 
foundation-stone of the whole edifice; and an illustrious 
name, which carried with it all that was great, good, and 
noble to be found at Court, was the first to occur to him : 
the Marchioness of Villasis. 

The conciliatory theories, however, of the hairy diplomat, 
deemed it advisable to secure other elements, and he accord- 
ingly hit upon the Countess of Albornoz for the post of Vice- 
President. The latter would attract the dashing and brilliant 
side of Madrid, which sparkles and bubbles like a small but 
venomous leaven, and corrupts the whole of society by im- 
posing upon it its laws and vices, making it appear scandal- 
ous to a degree which it really is not. The former would 
draw about her all of honorable, sensible, and devout 
Madrid, not so small in number as many believe, and 
around these two central figures, Madrid, really immense, 
would hasten to group itself, — this great courtly phalanx of 
people, more frivolous than corrupt, more shallow than 
vicious, who live by reflected light and scandalize or edify 
accordingly as the star which sheds its lustre upon them 
scandalizes or edifies. 

The plan was excellent. But who would put the salt on 
the bird’s tail ? Who would ally the inflexible and austere 
Marchioness of Villasis and the amiable and frivolous Cur- 
rita, even should it be for them to conquer the Holy Land 
together? Who could subdue the Countess of Albornoz’s 
immense vanity to the point of making her accept under 
any circumstances a secondary position? The astute Butron 
resolved to make the attempt by contriving a meeting be- 
tween the two ladies, and appointed his own house as neutral 
ground without informing either of the other’s expected 
presence, alleging as a pretext the necessity of privately 
treating, in a reunion of notabilities, an affair of the utmost 


232 


CURRITA 


importance for the party. He accordingly decided to inform 
Currita the night before at the theatre, and at his express 
command his wife wrote to the Marchioness of Villasis, with 
whom she was connected by an old, affectionate, and sincere 
friendship. The future President at once divined what was 
in the wind, and a convenient cold, beastly and obstinate, 
made it impossible for her to leave her house. To this effect 
she wrote, with great regret and in affectionate terms, to her 
good friend Genoveva, upon a small and elegant sheet of 
note paper, in one corner of which, beneath the ducal crown 
common to the grandees of Spain, was inscribed her name, 
“ Maria.” 

Butron’s wife had expected this answer, and told her hus- 
band so upon showing him the letter, and it was then the 
worthy diplomat had vented his wrath upon the poor lady, 
by pouring upon her the epithets quoted in the beginning of 
the chapter. Suddenly he recovered his courtly smile and 
his lordly and pompous mien. The Duchess of Bara had 
entered the room, another of the invited guests, and an old 
friend of the Marquis, although not of very ancient date, 
about whom scandal had busied itself many years back, and 
even yet continued to do so at times. The Duchess was a 
very discreet woman, anything but scrupulous, who knew 
Madrid inch for inch, and Butron listened to her as to an 
oracle, in all that concerned feminine war of intrigue and 
fan-taps. Next arrived General Pastor, who was also 
shortly to leave for the North, to second Concha’s move- 
ment, and a few moments later came one Don Jose Pulido, 
Butron’s right-hand man and Egerian nymph, clever and 
astute, who had been one of the latter’s fellow-pupils at the 
University, and had filled very good positions through the 
diplomat’s influence. 

It was already three o’clock, and Jacob Sabadell and the 
Countess of Albornoz were expected at four, the hour when 
the Marchioness of Villasis would also have come had not 
her providential cold prevented. Butron had prudently ar- 
ranged these appointments with an hour’s interval, in order 


CURRITA 


233 


to prepare this first group of his intimate friends for what 
would be discussed later in the presence of the others. 
They all seated themselves near the fireplace, around the 
square table, and Butron began to expound the case. The 
Duchess of Bara did not allow him to finish. It was her 
opinion that it would be impossible to make the Marchioness 
of Villasis swallow Currita as Vice-President, unless she 
should be taken by surprise, by unexpectedly having the 
candidature unanimously approved in advance, and presented 
to her at the coming general assembly of women. And even 
then she very much doubted the result, for Maria Villasis 
was an impertinent and ridiculous Quixote, capable of 
slighting the whole of Madrid if it entered her head to 
do so. 

“ I shall never forget what she did to poor Rosa Penarron, 
at the time of the famous concert which Rosa organized for 
the benefit of the inundated people of Valencia. Rosa sent 
her three tickets, and she had the assurance to return them 
with the exact price, some fifteen or twenty cents, sending 
almost immediately afterwards to Valencia, through the hands 
of the Archbishop, an alms of three thousand dollars.” 

Butron raised his formidable eyebrows, General Pastor 
stroked his long beard, and Don Jose Pulido, more practical 
and less punctilious, puffed out his thin, bearded cheeks, 
saying suavely : — 

“ If she only sends us as much, even through the hands 
of the Moor 4 Muza — * ” 

The Duchess, who had just sold her son and his dukedom 
to Lopez Moreno, was much offended, and with great dignity 
answered severely : — 

“ Ah ! indeed no, Pulido ! Decorum is priceless and can- 
not be bought ; neither do we need Maria Villasis here to 
give us lessons in it.” 

Moreover, she very much doubted what the latter’s attitude 
might be in regard to the Restoration, nor did she know how 
far she might be counted upon in the work for it. True, 
her friendship with the dethroned Queen had always been in- 


234 


CURRITA 


timate, loyal, and sincere, but she had heard on good authority 
that Bravo Murillo had had the presumption to inform the 
Marchioness of the answer given by the Archbishop of 
Valladolid, as to whether the Restoration would preserve 
Catholic unity or not, and his reply could not have been 
more final, — 44 that it was not licit for any political party to 
destroy it ; ” which was all nonsense, of course, on the part of 
the doting Archbishop, but was sufficient to alarm the con- 
science of a dissembler like Maria Villasis, and for her to 
find in it an excuse for keeping a tight hold on her purse- 
strings. 

The Marchioness of Butron lowered her eyes, as if greatly 
distressed upon hearing Catholic unity thus spoken of, and 
the shadow of sadness which always clouded her face 
deepened still more. The diplomat and Don Jose Pulido 
exchanged rapid glances. The two cronies had doubtless 
discussed the affair more than once, in their intimate re- 
unions behind the screen. Butron now spoke, extending 
his hairy hand : — 

“I will answer for Maria Villasis,” he said energetically. 

4 4 What you say is true, Beatrice ; but Bravo Murillo’s faux 
pas I have already rectified. Maria at that time hastened 
to me, very much alarmed, asking for categorical explana- 
tions, and I solemnly promised her that the Restoration 
would preserve Catholic unity at all costs, as the most 
precious jewel in the Spanish crown.” 

The Duchess shrugged her shoulders with signs of great 
impatience. 

“Well, the declaration which Bravo Murillo declined to 
sign does not say so,” she said. 

44 Neither does it say anything to the contrary.” 

44 And then what? ” 

44 Then what I have promised stands. The future, how- 
ever, cannot be insured, and perhaps it might happen that 
against our will and our wishes we might find ourselves 
forced either to respect a consummated fact or to yield 
before a contrary vote made by Parliament.” 


CURRITA 


235 


Pulido made a profound signal of assent, casting down 
his eyes with foreseeing resignation ; and the Duchess, mak- 
ing a great display of the perspicuity of her mental faculties, 
exclaimed lightly : — 

4 1 Enough ! enough ! I quite understand ; nevertheless, the 
other extreme remains to be conciliated. Do you think the 
monkey Jenny will be contented with the vice-presidency? ” 

Butron was amazed at this strange four-footed candidate 
which the Duchess was trying to introduce into the illustrious 
assembly of ladies, and exclaimed, very much surprised : — 

44 The monkey Jenny? ” 

44 Curra, of course, man, — the Villamelona. Have n’t you 
heard ? Diogenes gave her that name when she first began 
to smoke a pipe, — an exquisite narghile with which she was 
presented by the Moorish ambassador. There is a famous 
monkey in the Zoological Gardens in London, — I have seen 
it, — which smokes the pipe with certain airs and graces that 
exactly remind one of Curra.” 

“There! there!” exclaimed the diplomat, with Olympic 
good-humor, 44 I have never seen anything to equal Madrid 
for nick-names and malicious stories. We all love each 
other so much, are together night and day, and yet tear 
each other to pieces and ridicule one another the moment 
any of us turn our backs.” 

44 Hear the Puritan! How charitable! Ami de la vertu , 
plutdt que vertueux. You have certainly had time enough to 
become accustomed to it all.” 

“ I will begin by accustoming myself to the monkey Jenny. 
The monkey Jenny will accept the vice-presidency.” 

44 Are you sure? ” 

“ I believe so. For I have in store for her another most 
important part, which will make her, forget the secondary 
r61e of the former.” 

Butron then expounded his plan in all its details. The 
association was no longer a question of Alfonsist ladies ex- 
clusively ; he had said so a thousand times, and would never 
tire repeating it. They must sweep within and conciliate 


236 


CURRITA 


every one’s wishes, put all scruples to flight, search every 
corner wherever a penny might be found, scrape every rub- 
bish heap for any bundle of dirty bandages which might be 
hidden there, and exhaust all the resources of feasts, balls, 
bull-fights, benefits, sprees, and festivals, with which modern 
charity has learned the secret to wipe away tears, as well as 
cheer up their spirits, fill their stomachs, and stretch their 
legs. “ Help for the wounded soldiers of the North.” 
What a tempting bait with which to catch, not only the most 
opposed Carlists, but also the most radical liberals ! For this 
reason he had thought of effecting this general and decided 
sweep in a grand ball, a celebrated and famous feast, on a 
broad basis, which must be given by the monkey Jenny, 
Curra, inviting all of exploitable Madrid, from the wife of the 
President consort of the Carlist Committee to the wife of 
the retiring minister, the most worthy spouse of his Ex- 
cellency Sr. Don Juan Antonio Martinez. And there, in the 
heat of the champagne, which melts compassionate hearts, 
and under the influence of stimulated vanities which excite 
in all the desire to cut a figure, they would lower the net of 
charity, throw out the bait of the unfortunate wounded sol- 
diers, and catch with a single haul among the meshes of this 
assemblage of ladies all of feminine Madrid capable of 
helping the cause. Afterwards a general preparatory meet- 
ing would take place at Butron’s own house, presided over by 
Genoveva, and then must be presented and approved unani- 
mously the candidature, prepared beforehand, of a directive 
committee, in which all the elements would be so cleverly 
combined that the Restoration party would be in the as- 
cendency, enabling Butron meanwhile to grind this directive 
committee and the whole association as easily as he might 
a hand-organ. The directive committee was therefore the 
key of the situation, the clou of the project, and the worthy 
Butron terminated his peroration by requesting those present 
to be kind enough to study thoroughly the question, and to 
present their candidates according to the following plan, 
which he had jotted down upon a slip of paper: — 


CURRITA 


237 


President, — A charitable woman of great renown (no 
one to equal Maria Villasis) ; 

Vice-President, — An elegant and dashing woman (no 
one like Curra Albornoz) ; 

Six Members, — One a rather stupid Carlist, and another 
a Radical of limited mental resources, with four Alfonsists 
of the nobility, of the cr&me de la cr&me, honest of course, 
clever and elegant ; 

A literary Secretary ; 

And a Treasurer belonging to high financial circles. 

General Pastor enthusiastically applauded the diplomat’s 
clever strategy, and Don Jose Pulido modestly lowered his 
eyes as if the greater part of the idea had originated with 
him. The Duchess was enchanted, and began to suggest 
proper names and offer critical opinions, descriptions, and 
biographical facts, which clearly proved her consummate 
skill in the art of prying into her neighbors’ lives. There 
were any number of stupid persons in the world, and clever 
ones were not wanting either ; the difficult thing in her opinion 
would be to find the honest ones ; not because there were not 
shoals of them, but because the Duchess was not capable of 
finding them, for the sole reason that there is no one more 
exacting, nor who delights more in seeing faults in others, 
than he who lives in the midst of vice. 

The worthy Butron received all these homages with a 
majestic smile, and fearing to see Currita enter at any 
moment, again recommended to those present the greatest 
discretion in respect to the latter. They must conceal from 
her the plan of the directive committee, and must arouse her 
enthusiasm on the subject of the ball, by making her believe 
that, through its means, the party put into her hands the 
success of the project. Once engrossed with this idea, it 
would be easy to make her swallow by surprise and in due 
time the secondary role of the vice-presidency. 

At last the “ monkey Jenny,” Currita, arrived, with Jacob 
Sabadell, the young Telemachus. They had delayed a little, 
but it was Uncle Frasquito’s fault. What a joke on the poor 


238 


CURRITA 


old stupid ! He had no doubt heard that something was up, 
and had dropped in to breakfast with a questioning face and 
suspicious air ! She had been blessing him during the whole 
meal, until finally, to get rid of him, had to play a trick on 
him, a most facetious guet-apens ! 

She had invited him to take a turn with her in the Retiro, 
with Miss Buteffull and the children, and had sent him out 
to the carriage with them, while she got her hat on. Poor 
old man ! As soon as his back was turned she had escaped 
with Jacob by the servants’ stairway, and they had both come 
together in Jacob’s carriage, all alone, like a young married 
couple. How delicious ! 

She kissed the Marchioness with filial affection, and the 
Duchess of Bara with fraternal love, squeezed Butron’s hand 
with infantile delight, and had a caressing smile for General 
Pastor and a patronizing and irresistible little nod for Don 
Jos6 Pulido. Butron made her sit down beside him and next 
to the Marchioness, and she, with her light eyes fixed upon 
the portrait of the Grand Duke Alexis, which, overhung by 
a cobweb, was directly in front of her, began to lament in 
dulcet tones Fernandito’s attack of indigestion. She had 
almost been upon the point of not coming, dreading to leave 
him alone ; but the news which Butron had told her was so 
serious and so encouraging that she had finally decided. 

4 4 If you had not come, we should all have gone in a body 
to your house,” exclaimed Butron, with great vehemence. 
“ Because without you nothing can be done, and verily the 
fate of the party is in your hands.” 

Vanity did for the Countess of Albornoz what shame had 
never succeeded in doing, — made her blush. 

‘‘Heavens! Butron; poor me!” she exclaimed, in her 
sweet little voice. 44 If the fate of the party is in my hands 
be sure that I will not let it escape ! ” 

Butron then began to explain the project, as if it was com- 
pletely new to all present, making no mention whatsoever of 
the committee, and only putting forth with great cleverness 
the desired feast, as the axis upon which must turn the sue- 


CURRITA 


239 


cess of the project, the restoration of the throne, the happi- 
ness of Spain, the peace of the world, and European equilib- 
rium. Currita seemed to hesitate, because she had glanced 
at Jacob as if to consult him, and the latter had frowned. 
The lady was clever, and it was not so easy to dupe her. 
The diplomat re-enforced his arguments, and General Pastor 
with military frankness said resolutely : — 

“ You can do more, Countess, at that ball with your fan, 
than I can do in the North with my sword.” 

Don Jose Pulido, twirling his thumbs, added with a very 
soft smile : — 

“ Ah ! Lady Countess ! If you wish, the ball can justly 
be called the sweet alliance.” 

The lady extended both her little hands with a gesture of 
comic fright. 

“ Ah! no, no, Pulido, never! Why, that is the name of 
the confectioner’s shop on the race course of San Jeronimo ! ” 

The Duchess now came to the rescue, and with feminine 
ingenuity, shot the surest arrow, using as a bow a very big 
lie. 

“ After all,” she said, “ it is not necessary to bother Cur- 
rita, for if she cannot give the ball, Izabel Mazacan has 
promised to do so.” 

The shot struck home, and Currita immediately replied : — 

“ And why can I not give it? Nothing would be easier. 
Fifteen days from now is Carnival. Would a large costume 
ball be proper, do you think ? ” 

“ It will cost you a fortune ! ” murmured Jacob, in as bad 
a humor as if he himself had to pay for it. 

But the Duchess, who overheard the remark and who under- 
stood the economical ideas of Monsieur Alphonse, prevented 
Currita from hearing it by bursting out laughing ; everybody 
looked at her in amazement. 

“ What are you laughing at? ” 

“Nothing! Nothing! my dear. I was only thinking of 
the costume which Martinez’s wife will select for the ball. It 
will doubtless be that of Teresa Panza, Sancho’s wife.” 


240 


CURRITA 


CHAPTER III 

Currita’s constant interviews with Bonnat in Paris had 
awakened her artistic inclinations, and not content with tbe 
role of Maecenas, she wished herself to cultivate the art 
of the divine Apelles. Accordingly she visited Meissonier, 
invited Charles Durand to dine, and having succeeded in 
inducing Raymond Madrazo to give her some lessons, out 
of the pure gallantry of a courteous gentleman, she returned 
to Madrid, leaving Rosa Bonheur feeling very small, and 
green with envy. Once at Court, she would be obliged to 
have a good-natured genius within call, a helping hand who 
would impart with his brushes life and expression to the 
dead and flat images which sprang from her artist’s palette. 
This want was finally supplied by Celestino Reguera, a 
famous painter in water-colors of the Sevillian school, of 
the class who prefer the correct to the grand, and who 
think more of Watteau’s landscapes than of the sibyls of 
Michael Angelo. Celestino’s brush flew in and out of Cur- 
rita’s canvases with such frequency and liberty that the 
latter, upon finishing her pictures, could well repeat what 
the acolyte of long ago said, “ The priest and I gave him 
the sacraments.” 

But, besides her artistic glory, Currita, as a woman of 
fashion, was more interested in the frame which would 
surround it; introducing into her house for this reason a 
most luxurious studio worthy of Fortuny or Pradilla, Dela- 
roche or Makart. It was a vast room with studied oriental 
and zenith lights, and was over-stocked with artistic and 
archaeological treasures, which upon Beauvais and Gobelin 
tapestries covered the walls, filled all the tables, and left 
scarcely a spot free to tread without stumbling against 
something to admire. There were antique bronzes, rare 
porcelains, Pompeiian flower-pots with tropical plants, 
Arabian, Persian, and Roman lamps, — one of the latter a 


CURRITA 


241 


facsimile of the celebrated di capo d’anno of the Vatican Mu- 
seum, — busts, pictures, statues, helmets, swords, weapons, 
and complete sets of armor of various epochs, like loose 
pages from the world’s history, about Currita’s easel, which, 
placed in a convenient light, seemed to receive a reflection 
of heaven’s splendor, which the cunning rogue Celestino 
Reguera assured her was the very same which in former 
times the group of the Nine Muses had shed upon the fore- 
heads of Rafael, Velasquez, and Titian. 

Guarding the door on either side, were two manikins 
dressed as kings-at-arms of the sixteenth century, with 
gigantic shields, and genuine dalmatics of violet velvet, em- 
broidered with figures of castles and lions; while directly 
opposite, at the other end of the room and in a sort of high, 
wide, and deep alcove, reached by ascending three white 
marble steps, was a Turkish divan, strewn with soft velvet 
and satin cushions ; the floor of the alcove was covered by 
a genuine Persian carpet, while the ceiling and walls were 
decorated with Roman and Pompeiian mosaics, Egyptian 
bas-reliefs, and brilliant Moorish tiles. Here was kept the 
narghile, the gift of Sidi-Mohammed- Vargas, the Moorish 
ambassaador, and upon artistic little Fez tables, scarcely 
two hands high, were numerous other pipes, with which 
Jacob was teaching Currita how to enjoy the voluptuous 
sleep of the hasheesh, and which had caused Diogenes to 
designate the houri of this paradise by the graphical name 
of the “ monkey Jenny.” 

Hiding away in a corner, as if taking refuge there, was 
another small easel placed between a miniature of Byron’s 
* statue, presented to the city of Turin by Pozzi, and a 

carved chest, of the fifteenth century, supposed to have 
belonged to Isabella the Catholic. Here, always silent, 
taciturn, timid, and suspicious, Paquito Lujan also painted 
under the direction of Celestino Reguera, who really found 
in the child the artistic talent lacking in the mother. 

Great was the discussion that took place in this temple 
of the arts three days after the reunion of intimate friends 

16 


242 


CURRITA 


at the diplomat’s house. Currita, seated before an exquisite 
round table with top of Mexican onyx, was examining a 
large number of copper-plate designs which Celestino Reguera 
was showing her, and which she in turn passed on to Jacob 
and Tonito Cepeda. The latter was a most elegant good- 
for-nothing, as great a connoisseur in horses as Teseo’s son, 
and an amateur in everything that was art, being worthy for 
his exquisite taste, and as a representative in Spain of good 
Parisian form, his grateful country should, by an act of 
Parliament, endow him with a pension. Tonito Cepeda 
was more than chic , more than psehutt ; he was v'lan , tschocJc. 
But the poor young gentleman, incapable of fixing a price for 
the innumerable consultations thrust upon him on all sides, 
wandered about laden with debts, and without a cent to his 
name. 

The question which Currita had submitted the day before 
to his enlightened intellect was most important, and worthy 
to be arbitrated by an areopagus of elegants, just as Domi- 
tian, in former times, submitted to the decision of the 
Senate what should be the proper kind of sauce for a turbot 
stew. The lady once having decided to give this costume 
ball and great feast on a broad basis, at which Tyrians 
and Trojans would dance pele-m^le^ petty personages who 
figured in the Directory, and plebeian peasants raised by 
the Revolution, it was necessary to invent something novel 
and startling, which would be the grand coup of the feast, 
and which would leave the poor plebeians, the Martinez and 
their clique, gaping with astonishment, — the spurious guests, 
as Uncle Frasquito would have said, whom Currita would 
take very good care to sweep from her salons as soon as 
the charitable undertaking of helping the wounded soldiers 
of the North should have thinned their fat purses. 

The minuet, quadrille, the pavana , the saraband , and the 
chacona 1 were already played out, and had served a thou- 
sand times in aristocratic salons as a protest of refined 
Spanish patriotism against the intrusive Don Amadeo. 

1 Spanish dances. — Tr. 


CURRITA 


243 


Celestino Reguera suggested the idea of representing a 
Spanish allegory, in which couples of ladies and gentlemen 
would display the costumes characteristic of the different 
provinces. 

This project was rejected by Currita. 

“Heavens! Reguera,” she said. “It would look like a 
course in geography ! ” 

Tonito Cepeda glanced disdainfully at the little painter, 
and proposed in his turn one of those spectacles which dis- 
tinguish the epoch in which they occur, — that of imitating 
the Princess of Segan’s unique idea, who revived CEsop’s 
fables in Paris by giving a large costume ball, at which she 
received her guests dressed as a peacock, and to which all 
those invited went in costumes each representing some 
little animal. He, Tonito Cepeda, had attracted much 
attention in his elegant costume as a green frog. The idea 
was not new, but it quite captivated Currita. She would 
have been delighted to go dressed as a white cat with rose- 
colored boots. 

Jacob, however, with the prudence and moderation which 
characterized all his dealings in regard to Currita’s ex- 
penses, from the time he put his hand up to the elbow in 
her coffers, decisively rejected the project, by imposing 
rather than suggesting another plan, more economical and 
also much newer. They would give two quadrilles repre- 
senting the parts of a game of chess, in white and black, 
and would execute a figure by themselves in the form of a 
contra-danza. Louis Fonseca, his assistant at the Legation, 
had seen them given like this in Cochin China, at the time 
of the festivities in honor of Phara-Narodon, King of Cam- 
bodia. The project was accepted with disdainful conde- 
scension by Tonito, and with perfect submission by Currita. 
Celestino Reguera was charged to bring, the following day, 
designs for the gown of the lady who would represent the 
white queen, and also a superb set of chess, admirably made 
in Japan, whose large marble figures could be copied for 
the remaining costumes of the quadrille. 


244 


CURRITA 


Currita hesitated in the selection of a model, but Jacob, 
with the delegated authority which he exercised in this house 
as Villamelon’s intimate friend and fourth cousin to the 
Countess, made her quickly decide upon the least expensive 
among them. 

Currita obeyed without making any observation, or re T 
plying a word. One could clearly see she was completely 
subject to this man, that he was master here, and that every 
one in the house, from Villamelon to Don Joselito and from 
the Countess herself to the humblest kitchen-maid, servilely 
obeyed his orders, divined his desires, and moulded their own 
wishes to his caprices. Only two beings, the weakest and 
most defenceless, Paquito and Lili, resisted the omnipotent 
will of the shameless parasite ; the angelic instinct of both 
children always picturing him as a reptile basking in the 
sunlight, brilliant but loathsome. 

One day, shortly after Jacob had ingratiated himself into 
the intimate friendship of the husband and wife, Currita was 
painting in her studio a portrait which one would have sup- 
posed to be that of Byron, her beloved poet, whose pictures, 
busts, and statues were distributed in all directions, but 
which was in reality Jacob’s image, perfected by Reguera, 
his brow crowned with laurel, and the wide collar of his old- 
fashioned Scotch shirt open half way to the breast. The 
two children, standing on either side of their mother, were 
gazing open-eyed and in silence at the movement of the brush 
in the lady’s hand, who, with a certain air of intimate com- 
placency, gave the finishing touches to the graceful and vigor- 
ous neck of the make-believe Byron. Presently Lili, with 
that serious and meditative air common at times in children, 
said to her mother : — 

“ Mamma, why do you love Uncle Jacob so much? ” 

The Countess turned, surprised, leaning on her maul-stick, 
and changed color slightly ; but, immediately recovering 
herself, she said with much affection : — 

“ And why should I not love him, child? He is my cousin 
and your uncle.” 


CURRITA 


245 


The child shook her little head, pouting doubtfully. 

“Yes, I know. I also love Cousin Baptista and Cousin 
Charles ; but not more than you and Paquito, — no, no, no ! ” 

And she began to cry bitterly, with her heart contracted, 
hiding her beautiful little head on her mother’s breast, as if 
seeking there what even the smallest swallow finds in the 
bottom of its nest, the warmth of maternal affection. 
Paquito said nothing, but blushed deeply, that holy carmine 
with which instinctive modesty tinges the features of inno- 
cence, and crushing between his fingers, without knowing it, 
a Roman amphora, a strange glass lachrymatory, which was 
on a table near-by, hid with a manly effort the large tears 
which gushed from his eyes. 

On another occasion, some months later, when Currita’s 
birthday, the 10th of October, and feast of St. Francis 
Borgia, was approaching, the two children were plotting to- 
gether a conspiracy to give their mother a surprise. Paquito, 
whose remarkable talent for painting, especially portraits, 
was already beginning to reveal itself, had painted in pastels 
the portrait of his father, a deformed Villamelon, with a 
complexion like a carrot, and who seemed to have his left 
cheek swollen, but which was, notwithstanding, a more than 
mediocre likeness of the original. The most striking part 
of the portrait was the forehead and head, in which the child 
had faithfully copied his father’s scanty locks of hair, parted 
in the middle, and forming over both ears two little horns, 
a la Napoleon III., which the artist’s lack of skill had drawn 
out to an inconsiderable length. Lili, for her part, had 
made, with the help of Miss Buteffull, who was in the secret, 
a frame of Russian leather with raised flowers; aud both 
uniting their work, the gift was complete. At the bottom of 
the portrait Miss Buteffull wrote in her best English hand- 
writing : “ To our dear mamma on her birthday,” and both 

children signed it: “Lili, Paquito.” 

Oh! How splendid it was! It had cost so much too, 
and it was only natural that its authors should be rewarded 
by witnessing the whole of their mother’s joyful surprise. 


246 


CURRITA 


The eagerly looked-for day arrived, and Lili, hiding beneath 
her little fur cape the magnificent present, slyly stole with 
Paquito into their mother’s studio. There the Countess 
used to come every day before breakfast, usually long past 
twelve o’clock, and it was the most appropriate time to take 
her by surprise. 

On Currita’s easel in front of the very picture she was 
painting, Paquito placed with great care his masterpiece. 
Then, laughing like little cherubs, with the agitation of great 
expectations and perfect confidence in the most sacred of 
affections, they ran hurriedly to hide themselves amid the 
innumerable knick-knacks which were concealed beneath an 
antique steel writing-desk by a large piece of tapestry rep- 
resenting some very large, withered, and ugly figures, “ The 
Three Fates ! ” From here they could see the easel, with 
the portrait standing out in full view ; and the two children, 
hiding closely, and squeezing up one against the other, con- 
templated their work. 

“ How well it looks ! ” said Lili. 

Half an hour passed ; Lili was beginning to get impatient, 
and stretched out her cramped legs. 

“ She isn’t coming,” she said. 

“Hush, silly! ” 

A noise was heard ; Lili nudged her brother and whispered, 
“ There she comes ! ” and made herself as small as possible. 

She in fact entered the room, but not alone. With her 
came Uncle Jacob, speaking of things they did not under- 
stand. How tiresome! debts that must be paid, creditors 
who wished to collect, a signature which must be tricked 
from Villamelon and placed at the bottom of a note three 
times contested, — a loan, a mere loan, payable upon the 
coming of the Restoration, when he would be able to collect 
the value of certain mysterious papers. 

Jacob spoke with failing voice, and Currita, in gay spirits 
and thoroughly well satisfied, cheered him up by saying yes 
to everything, and by telling him not to worry. Presently 
she glanced at the easel. 


CURRITA 


247 


“ What is this ? ” 

The children scarcely dared to breathe and squeezed 
up still closer to each other. A burst of laughter was now 
. heard. 

44 Do you see what this is? ” 

Another laugh from Uncle Jacob, which echoed the first, 
and this time was heard : — 

‘ 4 The great idiot ! ” 

Then they both began to laugh again, their UDcle Jacob 
and their mother, with a laugh which completely disconcerted 
the children, for it was not the gay, tender, and thankful 
laugh, brimming over with love and maternal tenderness, 
which they expected to hear, but a rude, mocking, shameless 
laugh, which reminded them, without their knowing why, of 
the laugh with which the bad women of the street insult 
each other. 

‘ 4 What an idea ! Poor children ! And how hideous the 
babieca is ! He looks as if he had the toothache. How 
delicious ! ” 

44 And the boy has crowned him with a vengeance.” 

44 True, indeed ! ” 

Then there was an infamous tittering and whispering of 
half-uttered words ; they snatched up something from a table 
and did something to the portrait, and once again those cruel 
laughs resounded. The children said nothing, but had shrunk 
away from each other, as if fearing to communicate their 
mutual impressions, remaining huddled up, quiet, and utterly 
speechless. A servant entered the studio, announcing that 
breakfast was served, and Jacob and Currita now left the 
room without having observed the children’s presence. Pa- 
quito came out first from his hiding-place, with the air of a 
child who has felt in a nightmare a great weight upon him, 
which he cannot see, or touch, or understand, but which 
oppresses and annihilates him, and causes his heart to palpi- 
tate. Lili crept out next, and stood looking at her brother ; 
both approached the portrait. 

44 Oh! ” said Lili, disconsolately. 44 See what they have 
done ! ” 


248 


CURRITA 


An infamous hand had traced with a piece of charcoal 
in the two little curls of the portrait a most sarcastic pro- 
longation and a most villanous insult. The boy flushed 
crimson, and presently grew very pale. He seized the por- 
trait, hid it under his coat, and walked towards the door 
without saying a word. Lili began to cry ; Paquito then 
turned and kissed her. 

“ Don’t cry, silly.” 

He was not crying, but was very serious, with his little 
nostrils pale, mouth dry, and lips white. He raised his finger 
and said, looking down at the carpet: — 

“Be sure and say nothing to Mademoiselle. Do you 
understand? Nothing, not a word. I am going to my 
room.” 

And the poor little fellow went to his room, and there, in 
that solitude, with no one to console him, wept floods of 
burning tears ; for he felt a profound grief without under- 
standing it, which lacerated his heart like a hidden cancer 
which consumes the inward parts, — a feeling, if we may so 
express it, of indescribable shame, which made him hide his 
face, wet with tears, on his little white pillow. But why 
should he feel this shame, being good himself, loving his 
father and mother, and adoring Lili, always having the high- 
est marks too, and saying his prayers every day to God and 
the Blessed Virgin, who was there before him in a frame with 
the Child in her arms ? He grew somewhat calmer. Oh ! 
how happy must have been that Divine Child to be able to 
call this pure Virgin “ Mother ” ! 

A very few days afterwards Currita suddenly withdrew 
her son from the College of Our Lady of Remembrance. The 
boy was now twelve years of age, and the reverend rector 
had told his father on one of his visits that the time had come 
to prepare him for his first communion. Currita was not 
present, and Villamelon hastened to approve the idqa. He 
wished above all things that his boy should be a Christian. 

“For you must know, reverend father, we come by this 
naturally. My wife is related to St. Francis Borgia, and I 


CURRITA 


249 


myself to St. Theresa, and, on the Benedetti side also, to St. 
Francis Caracciola.” 

Ah ! the Villamelons had always been pious. Every year 
they made a novena to San Roque, intercessor of the plague- 
stricken, at Quintanar de Oreja, where they had possessions. 
He was patron of the church also, and had the power to 
appoint the pastor. 44 Do you understand me, reverend 
father ? ” 

The rector understood him only too well, and confiding in 
St. Francis Caracciola, advanced another suggestion. The 
day appointed for the first communion was the nineteenth of 
March, St. Joseph’s day, and it seemed to him natural, 
appropriate, and it would be most edifying, if he, the father 
of the child, and the Countess, his mother, would accompany 
him to the sacred table. To this Villamelon also agreed. 

44 Quite so, reverend father ; I will receive communion with 
my son ! My sainted mother always said, 4 It is just as well 
to show God certain attentions.’ You understand? And 
moreover, these family scenes affect one. I aspire to a 
patriarchal family. My mother was a saint, and my wife is 
an angel, who always defers to me, and has no will of her 
own. 4 Curra, do this,’ 4 Curra, do that,’ and it is done. You 
understand me, reverend father?” 

The rector, who was scrupulous, did not dare say he under- 
stood, for fear of infringing on the truth, and Villamelon 
continued, with the air of a monarch who offers to stand 
godfather to a beggar : — 

44 So, of course, reverend father, we will both receive com- 
munion wfith the boy ; and I, you may rest assured, will come 
in full uniform.” 

The rector, who had had much experience and could fore- 
see things a long way off, told him it would be better for 
them to go to confession before coming to the College, as the 
fathers there were always much pressed for time, and per- 
haps might not be able to hear them. 

4 4 Certainly, reverend father, certainly ; I have my regular 
confessor ; have never confessed to another, — Father Pareja ; 


250 


CURRITA 


an excellent man, a saint, reverend father, a saint! You 
understand me ? ” 

The reverend rector understood him so well that he was 
almost on the point of bursting into a laugh. Father Pare j a, 
the Marquis’s regular confessor, had been dead ten years. 

Villamelon returned to his house thoroughly well satisfied, 
and told Currita of the engagement he had made. She, with 
the rapid perception of her perfect understanding, at once 
realized the serious nature of the engagement, and a horrible 
idea, that of a sacrilege, crossed her mind like a bird of ill- 
omen. She stopped, however, frightened before it, for the 
bad Spanish woman is rarely impious. In the depths of her 
heart she always believes and fears, and a sacrilege terrifies 
less the false devotee than the woman openly scandalous. 
Her fruitful imagination at once suggested to her another 
expedient, worthy of the Superioress of Port Royal, the 
mystic Jansenist, Sophia Arnauld. 

“ What on earth are you talking about, Fernandito? A 
child twelve years of age receive communion! What an 
idea ! It is a piece of irreverence which I cannot permit.” 

Villamelon opened his mouth, amazed. 

“ But my dear Curra, don’t you understand ? The reverend 
rector says so.” 

“ Well, I say no. No one receives communion in France 
until the age of fourteen at least ! ” 

“ But as we are in Spain — ” 

“ Listen, Fernandito, my love. I have told you never to 
talk anywhere. This is not a question of climate, do you 
understand ? So that to-morrow you must return to the Col- 
lege and tell this reverend rector in my name that 1 will not 
permit Paquito to receive communion without being fully 
prepared. So that settles it!” 

In vain the reverend rector alleged that the child was 
thoroughly well prepared, and that this rigorous French 
custom was a remnant of Jansenism, which the teachings 
of the Church and the zeal of the clergy had already com- 
pletely obliterated ; it being a sin and a veritable crime to 


CURRITA 


251 


deprive, for such a length of time, an innocent soul of the 
help of a sacrament which works ex opere operate >. 

Villamelon shrugged his shoulders, not well understanding 
to what operas he was referring. Currita’s astute scruples 
would not be downed, and the reverend rector, suspecting the 
hypocritical pretext, said most emphatically that if the boy 
continued at College he must receive Holy Communion on 
St. Joseph’s day without his parents’ consent. Currita 
upon this became most indignant, and, in order to avoid the 
horrible profanation, hastened to withdraw the boy. 

It was now that the innocent child began to give his 
candid attention to the strange scenes passing in his house. 
The poor boy, left almost always alone, took refuge in the 
stables, where he passed the greater part of the day among 
the coachmen and stable-boys, listening to conversations 
which at first made him blush, but afterwards made him 
laugh; so that his modesty, that species of delicate skin 
which the purity of the soul preserves, gradually became 
hardened. The dwarf Don Joselito amused him exceed- 
ingly, and to him he went with mysterious doubts, which 
the malicious pygmy hastened to solve, making clear to him 
secrets as curious as those which the impure and loathsome 
Asmodeus revealed to his pupil Cojuelo, the imp. The boy 
began putting two and two together. 

There now came to the Court a famous French dramatic 
company, and Currita had a box reserved for the season, so 
the children could go every night to the theatre. The little 
ones spoke such broken and provincial French that it was 
necessary that they should learn to speak correctly by hear- 
ing the pure Parisian accent. In this school of accent and 
prosody the child continued putting two and two together, 
and one day, after a long conversation with Don Joselito, in 
which the wicked dwarf bargained for all that his covetous- 
ness could expect from the boy’s generous soul, if he could 
succeed in initiating him, once for all, into the labyrinths 
of vice, the boy made his last calculation. From this time 
his character changed ; he had seen more than he expected 


252 


CURRITA 


to see, and a great shame, clear and distinct, and a ferocious 
hatred, implacable and deep-rooted, were born simultaneously 
in his heart, the former preventing him from raising his eyes 
before the humblest servant, and the latter making him 
sharpen in silence the edge of his rancor, until the time 
should come when he would be a man, and could command 
in his house. 

His father inspired him with disdain, his mother with 
aversion ; but he continued to worship Lili, the only angel 
left in the house. As far as Jacob was concerned, he 
avoided him as much as possible, and more than once Cur- 
rita, with a feeling of real fear, surprised in the eyes of the 
boy a look of profound hatred which shone between his long, 
blond lashes like an unsheathed sword. He now devoted 
himself with ardor to painting, and passed whole hours 
sketching at his easel, with Lili seated by his side, as if she 
were his guardian angel. Thus they were surprised on the 
day when Currita came into the room with those who were 
to draw out the plan of the costume ball. The children, 
resisting their curiosity, sat quiet and motionless in their 
corner. But when Celestina Reguera began to place upon 
the chess-board the magnificent chess-men, and Jacob began 
to explain the picturesque manner in which the persons to 
represent them must move in order to play their parts, 
Lili could not resist the temptation, and approached the 
group on tiptoe, making silent signs to her brother to 
follow. It was all so pretty! 

The boy finally decided, and got up a moment to look on, 
with his palette in one hand and maul-stick in the other. 
He had grown very much, was about to complete his thir- 
teenth year, and promised to be most handsome in face as 
well as exceedingly graceful and robust in form. He ap- 
proached the group, smiling at Lili, and began to watch 
what was going on, standing on tiptoe behind his mother, 
and at Jacob’s very side. Suddenly, in the midst of his 
explanation the latter made a brusque movement with his 
arm, rudely knocking the boy’s palette out of his hand, 


CURRITA 


253 


which, falling upon Jacob’s left sleeve, completely besmeared 
it with paint. The boy retreated a step, his face livid. 

Jacob turned angrily, a harsh word impatiently bursting 
from his lips, with the obscene grossness which is fre- 
quently concealed beneath the polite social manners of certain 
men, and which escapes them spontaneously when anger or 
undue familiarity excites them. The child, upon hearing 
him, glanced at his mother and at Jacob angrily, making a 
menacing gesture in which one could see the man palpitating 
beneath the fragile form of the boy. 

“Well,” exclaimed Jacob, defying him. “ Nobody told 
you to come here. Go away ! ” 

The boy’s eyes became bloodshot, and he pounded so 
hard on the floor with his maul-stick that it broke in two. 

“ I don’t choose to do so ! ” he cried. 

Jacob made a motion to throw himself upon him, but 
Currita, alarmed, stopped him. The boy’s voice, hoarse 
with anger, laconic and dry like one in a fever, cried out 
again : — 

“ I don’t choose to do so ! Go away yourself. You can’t 
give orders here ! This is not your house ! ” 

And he stopped, panting and voiceless in the midst of an 
ominous silence, similar to that which reigns during a lull in 
a tempest. Jacob had turned, with his fists clenched, stam- 
mering between his lips white with anger : — 

“ He is spoiling for a whipping — ” 

He did not finish his sentence; with the strength and 
rapidity which characterizes the lion in its attack, and the 
sanguinary avidity with which a tiger’s cub springs upon its 
first prey, the boy sprang upon Jacob, digging his nails into 
his throat, butting him in the face with his head and kicking 
him all over his body with his robust little legs, which seemed 
to have muscles of steel. Jacob, surprised, repulsed the at- 
tack, disengaging the boy with a powerful effort of his vigor- 
ous arms and threw him faraway from him, as if he had been 
a bag of sand ; his head struck against an enormous Japanese 
jar, of antique bronze, which emitted a metallic sound. 


254 


CURRITA 


Lili, her eyes dilated with terror, was by his side in a 
moment, and had raised between her two hands his livid 
little head. Celestino caught him up in his arms and car- 
ried him hurriedly from the room. Lili, still kneeling on the 
carpet, held out her little blood-stained hands to her mother, 
stammering out with the dull vibration of uncontrollable 
terror : — 

“ Blood ! Mamma ! Blood ! ” 


CHAPTER IV 

Pedro Lopez almost succumbed beneath the plethora of his 
inspiration, upon giving an account in the Fleur-de-Lis of 
the grand ball on a broad basis which took place Carnival 
Monday at the house of their Excellencies the Marquis and 
Marchioness of Villamelon. There are situations and spec- 
tacles which one understands and instinctively admires, but 
may not have the power to describe or comment upon. In 
such cases the greatest poet and most masterful writer is he 
who exhales the most natural cry and most vehement 
exclamation. 

Pedro Lopez deemed it best to describe the magic ball by 
imprinting at the top of a sheet of paper, a fathomless 
4 4 Oh ! ! ! ! ” and then leaving all the rest in blank. Towards 
dawn he withdrew into the serve and was hurriedly jot- 
ting down notes, when Butron, exhausted and satisfied, 
like the chief after the victory, approached him ; his well 
formed legs, which his knee-breeches and black silk stock- 
ings fitted to perfection, advancing with a movement that 
caused his graceful Venetian cape to undulate with juvenile 
jauntiness. With a solemn intonation and an air of profound 
mystery he whispered, poking the end of his nose into Pedro 
Lopez’s left ear : — 

44 Lopez ! Be very careful ! Your account will insure 
our triumph. Let all these parvenus see their names in the 


CURRITA 


255 


Fleur-de-Lis , extolled by the reporter of our elegant salons, 
and they are ours forever. Away with scruples ! Martinez’s 
wife must be beautiful; Garcia Gomez’s wife enchanting; 
she who is coming this way a prodigy and the Victoria 
Colonna of the age.” 

And with an attentive and obsequious air he hastened to 
clasp the hand of the Victoria Colonna of the nineteenth cen- 
tury, a fat old body, a metre and a half in height and twelve 
arrobes in weight, dressed as Sappho, with a crown of myrtle 
on her head, a lyre of gilded brass in her hand, and upon 
her flat nose — just Heaven! — a pair of gold-rimmed 
spectacles. It was her Excellency Senora Dona Paulina 
Gomez de Rebollar de Gonzalez de Hermosilla, an eminent 
literary person and famous poetess, upon whom Butron had 
cast his eye for the Secretary of the association of ladies. 
The ball had really been a success, and Butron qualified it 
as a miraculous catch; the charitable bait of helping the 
wounded soldiers had caught all hearts, and the desired 
fusion being realized, and the heterogeneous personnel of the 
association of ladies recruited, it only now remained to or- 
ganize them. Butron, triumphant and rejuvenated, congratu- 
lated some, encouraged others, and multiplied himself in all 
directions, fishing-rod in hand ; but between the influence of 
the supper and the current of general satisfaction, his head, 
so firm, was on the point of becoming unhinged to the ex- 
tent of conceiving the idea of inviting her Excellency Sra. 
Dona Paulina Gomez de Rebollar de Gonzalez de Hermosilla 
to dance the cotillon. A strange rumor which began to 
circulate through the drawing-rooms stopped him on the 
brink of this precipice, deeper than the turbulent sea, tomb 
of the real Sappho, at the foot of the rock of Leucades. 

It was whispered that somewhere in a private room a 
dispute of honor had taken place between two personages of 
high standing. Butron, terrified, ran to investigate the rumor 
for himself, fearful lest this unforeseen incident should dis- 
solve the ties of union knotted with so much labor. He ap- 
proached a group, in the midst of which Gorito Sardona, 


256 


CURRITA 


dressed as a pawn in chess, was holding forth : He was 
thoroughly acquainted with the whole affair ; for he had 
witnessed it all, and one of the disputants was Uncle 
Frasquito. 

44 Polaina! ” exclaimed Diogenes. 44 And with what will 
the duel be fought, — scissors, or needles ? ” 

44 Something between the two,” replied Gorito. And he 
continued relating, with a great many exaggerations and 
much mystery, that the other disputant was Sir Robert Beltz, 
a captain of the guards attached to the English Embassy, — 
a very phlegmatic and inquisitive person, accustomed to in- 
vestigate the whys and wherefores of everything, methodical 
and orderly to the point of laughing in the morning at the 
jokes heard the night before. 

Upon hearing Sir Robert Beltz’s name mentioned, Diogenes 
made a motion as if assailed by a strong temptation to laugh, 
but nevertheless he controlled himself and listened seriously 
to the young man’s narration. It happened that Uncle 
Frasquito had observed, with surprise at first, then with sus- 
picion, and lastly with real alarm, that Sir Robert Beltz was 
following him about everywhere, without losing sight of him 
for an instant. At first he thought it was due to the admi- 
ration excited by his magnificent costume as Great Mandarin, 
quite capable of awakening the Mikado’s envy, for Uncle 
Frasquito was the happy mortal who had had the signal 
honor of figuring as white king, by Currita’s side, in the 
famous game of chess just enacted. Upon its conclusion, 
however, he found himself, amid the frequent crushes of the 
ball, constantly running across the Englishman, who always 
rubbed up against him with most disagreeable persistency, 
actually shaking him upon two occasions. 

4 4 Such thumps ! ” — said the victim in his chapter of 
complaints ; 44 simply horrible ! Nothing more nor less than 
if he wanted to see if I sounded hollow or not ! ” 

Later in the evening, while the venerable Mandarin was 
bending somewhat forward , conversing with some ladies who 
were seated, Sir Robert, hidden by the crowd, approached 


CURRITA 


257 


him with much precaution, and without any provocation 
whatsoever, or any justifiable reason, zounds ! ran a needle, 
with British vigor, its full length into the calf of his left leg. 

“ The great idiot! ” exclaimed Diogenes, “ I told him it 
was the right one; the right leg is the cork one.” 

And in the midst of general astonishment and laughter, 
Diogenes then explained the enigma. While the chess 
quadrilles were being danced, Sir Robert Beltz, standing by 
Diogenes’ side, was most attentively watching Uncle Fras- 
quito, who, very pompous and complacent in his character 
as king, moved with repose and majesty over the carpet of 
red and white checks which represented the chess-board. 

“ Who is that youth?” he asked of Diogenes. 

“ Youth? Polaina! He is two years older than myself, 
and I am sixty- three ; you can calculate accordingly.” 

Sir Robert’s face of perpetual astonishment lengthened, 
and Diogenes increased his amazement by adding most 
seriously : — 

“ There, as you see him, he is made up of thirty- two false 
articles.” 

“Oh, Sir Diogenes! you are a very exaggerated Anda- 
lusian ! ” 

“ You do not believe me? Well, then, just count them.” 
And he began to enumerate the components which the legend 
attributed to Uncle Frasquito, concluding by putting the 
cork leg into the catalogue. 

Sir Robert, amazed, and thinking he had discovered a new 
specimen of elastic man, with which to endow the British 
Museum, set about applying his experimental method to this 
new find, and received in exchange a spontaneous rap from 
Uncle Frasquito’s mandarin fan, which in the irascibility of 
his excited nerves the latter discharged upon the top of Sir 
Robert’s head. No blood was shed, however; Currita, very 
indignant at Diogenes’ rude joke, intervened, and put an 
end to the affair, by taking Sir Robert’s arm and making a 
tour of the serve, charging Uncle Frasquito beforehand to 
invite all those who had taken part in the two quadrilles, 

17 


258 


CURRITA 


black and white, to dine with her the following day. Fer- 
nandito wished to photograph them in both groups, in their 
respective costumes, so that afterwards a large engraving 
might be published in the Ilustracion Espanola y Americana . 

The dinner was most original. The idea had occurred to 
Currita to have her cook prepare a Japanese menu , and all 
seated themselves at the table in the same Japanese cos- 
tumes in which they had been photographed in different 
groups and attitudes in Fernandito’s studio. At dessert 
Uncle Frasquito was seized with a new and most happy 
idea, a veritable inspiration, born amid the vapors of his 
gratified stomach and received with enthusiasm by all 
present. It occurred to him, — in order to immortalize this 
famous ball and to perpetuate the memory of these gorgeous 
costumes, so as never to separate from its queen the aris- 
tocratic Japanese quadrille recruited by himself in the 
salons of the Veloz Club — to prolong the masquerade by 
transforming it into a species of guard of honor, which 
would wait upon and accompany Currita everywhere, all 
wearing some particular badge which would distinguish 
them from the rest of mortals. Currita was enchanted with 
the idea, and, as a distinctive mark of the new order of 
knighthood, fixed upon a blue cravat, color of the famous 
league of the Countess of Salisbury, which, as the story 
goes, gave Edward III. the idea of founding the ancient 
and most noble Order of the Garter. The lady gayly offered 
to present to all the badge of the new order, and sent to 
each an exquisite blue cravat of rich Japanese silk, fastened 
with pearl scarf-pins, the stones all taken from a magnifi- 
cent collar which had belonged to her mother. Uncle 
Frasquito was elected by acclamation grand master of the 
illustrious knights, who took the title of “ Currita’ s Muske- 
teers.” Madrid’s caustic satire, the most cruel perhaps in 
the world, soon made them change the name. Carmen 
Tagle, having represented the black queen in the game of 
chess, was profoundly indignant because no such guard had 
been formed in her honor, and began to designate that 


CURRITA 


259 


of her rival, from its Japanese origin, by the name of 
“ Mikado.” 

“Indeed! Yes! that is the very name!” exclaimed the 
Countess of Mazacan, enthusiastically, upon hearing it. 
“ The natural and logical guard for the ‘ monkey Jenny ’ 
should be a body of ‘ Micos.’ ” 1 And from that time forth 
the body of Musketeers went by the name of “ Currita’s 
Micos.” 

Uncle Frasquito also obtained in this skirmish another 
nickname, thereby increasing the long catalogue of them 
which the envy and malignity of high Madrid society lavish 
in such profusion upon every one. The Duchess of Bara 
had discovered in him a great likeness, dressed as a Man- 
darin, to a portrait of Pan-Hoei-Pan, a celebrated Chinese 
man of letters, which had been published in the Ilustracion , 
and Pan-Hoei-Pan he was called from that time forth by 
this immense phalanx of his spurious and legitimate nephews 
and nieces. 

Jacob, with the avarice of his egotistical and rapacious 
nature, and the despotic authority which he exercised over 
Currita in the moderation of all her expenses, bitterly re- 
proached her for this waste of pearls, squandered away 
upon her Micos. She, blinded by the densest and most 
effective of all bandages, and in constant fear of seeing 
herself deprived of the friendship and counsels of this man, 
who filled the shallow cavity of her heart and satisfied her 
immense vanity, resolved, in order to conciliate him, to 
present him upon his birthday, the thirtieth of April, a 
magnificent gift. Accordingly, with Reguera’s help, she 
colored a large photograph of herself taken in her rich 
costume as Japanese queen, and ordered designs for a 
magnificent frame, to be made by Marzo and Ansorena, of 
gold, silver, and precious stones. The designs, however, did 
not satisfy her ; the thirtieth of April was approaching, and 
alarmed at the shortness of the time, she almost despaired 
of seeing her project realized. Celestino Reguera now sug- 
1 Apes. — Tr. 


260 


CURRITA 


gested she should buy an antique frame of embossed silver 
work, then on sale at the Exposition of Retrospective Art, 
which had formerly belonged to a certain well known ducal 
house. Currita struck her forehead with the palm of her 
hand. 

“ How silly I am ! ” she said. “It will not be necessary; 
for I have*here in this very house, within a stone’s throw, 
something better and richer than anything I could buy.” 

With the vivacity of a girl who hastens to gratify a 
cherished caprice, Currita traversed the vast rooms of the 
palace, in which luxury and comfort were everywhere con- 
spicuous, until she came to a certain part of the house 
which, in former times, had been a wing of honor, but was 
now inhabited by the servants. In a species of rotunda, 
adorned with antique painted frescos, now completely dis- 
colored and blurred, was a large oaken door with bronze 
ornaments and beautifully sculptured panels. In vain the 
Countess attempted to lift with her delicate little hands the 
enormous chiselled bolt ; the key was gone. She then ap- 
proached the entrance of a corridor which led to the kitchen, 
and cried out impatiently : — 

“ German ! Basil ! Is no one there? ” 

German rushed out in great haste, much astonished to see 
the Countess in this part of the house. 

“ Where is the key to this door ? ” she demanded. 

German shrugged his shoulders. Who could tell what 
had become of that key? 

“ Well, go look for it, instantly ! ” cried Currita. “ Ask 
Don Joselito, inquire in the office and everywhere ! 
Heavens ! How tiresome ! ” And much annoyed she tapped 
impatiently on the floor with her foot, while German flew 
through the house looking for the key. After a lapse of 
fifteen minutes he at last returned, bringing with him a very 
large key covered with rust, with a parchment card attached 
to it on which was written the word “Oratory.” The key 
entered the lock with a grating sound, and German tried in 
vain to turn it; he was obliged to draw it out again, rub 


CURRITA 


261 


the sides of the lock with oil, and introduce a stick into the 
key-hole, finally succeeding, after the sixth or seventh 
attempt, in turning it. He then gave two or three most 
vigorous shoves with his whole body against the side of the 
door, which opened slowly, letting a sudden blast of damp 
air escape; the interior was dark. 

“Wait here!” said Currita, with a certain little air of 
fright 

And she advanced, holding her hands out before her and 
with her eyes closed in order to accustom herself to the 
gloom. A few streaks of pale light came in through two 
high and wide side-windows, both hung with long curtains 
of red damask, faded and white with dust. Currita tried 
to draw one of them aside, violently pulling the silk cord 
which hung along the side of the wall ; but the curtain 
rustled without moving, and the cord, no doubt rotten, 
broke from above and fell twisting itself about Currita, like 
a long and slender serpent. The lady screamed, and a 
cloud of thick dust fell down at the same time, while two 
bats flew out from among the folds of the curtains and 
began to circle about from one side of the room to the 
other. 

“German! ” cried Currita, half dead with fright. 

And trying to conceal her sudden terror upon seeing him 
enter, she added, fleeing from the ill-fated cord as if it were 
indeed a serpent : — 

“Heavens, man, how slow you are! See if you can 
draw this curtain.’’ Only after the greatest labor and with 
the utmost care, pulling both cords at once, could German 
succeed in drawing aside the other curtain, while, frightened 
by the light, a hen now jumped from the altar, and two or 
three chickens began to run cackling about, disappearing 
through a small half-opened door to the right of the main 
altar. Currita looked at German stupefied, and the latter, 
scarcely able to restrain a burst of laughter, which would 
have seemed to him wanting in respect to his illustrious mis- 
tress, answered very gravely : — 


262 


CURRITA 


“ The cook shuts up the chickens to be killed in here, 
so as to have them more conveniently at hand.” 

“ But how does he get them in, with the door so barred?” 

“ Through the other little door of the sacristy, which 
communicates with the kitchen.” 

“ Ah! ” 

The light penetrated through the dirty and dusty window- 
panes faintly and as if ashamed, but it was sufficient to 
illumine this desolate picture of impious neglect. The 
oratory was a beautiful chapel with high, frescoed dome, 
which had been constructed with great taste and richness 
towards the end of the seventeenth century. In those times 
it was tapestried from top to bottom with rich red damask 
hangings, which now hung in dirty tatters from the walls, 
full of stains and bruises. At certain distances along the 
walls, enclosed in rich frames now rotting, were yellowish 
parchments, upon which were inscribed the innumerable 
graces and privileges conceded by the Holy See to the found- 
ers of the chapel. The rich sculpturing of the somewhat 
gaudy altar-piece was hidden beneath a thick layer of dust 
and cobwebs, and the various images which occupied the 
niches seemed to have acquired that livid pallor which is an 
indication of supreme fright in human beings. Upon the 
altar, the slab was broken, the tabernacle sunken in, and two 
beautiful angels on either side of it, which formerly sustained 
silver lamps, now raised their empty clenched hands as if 
announcing the anger of the Lord. In the lower part of the. 
chapel, upon a ruined confessional and various broken 
kneeling-stools, was heaped a lot of old rubbish, useless 
furniture, and the stage-settings of a theatre, in which the 
Countess, many years before, had represented some famous 
living pictures. Over the two steps of the chancel, at the 
left of the altar, was a sort of crystal closet inserted in 
the wall, where relics were kept. Here Currita directed her 
footsteps, bidding German to open the door. In the lower 
part were various half-opened cases, which contained sacred 
vessels, and, thrown into a corner, rumpled and bundled up, 


CURRITA 


263 


was a black velvet chasuble, richly embroidered in gold, 
which displayed in elegant raised work the coat of arms of 
the house. The sight of it instantly recalled to Currita the 
last mass celebrated in this profaned spot. It had been 
fifteen years before, when the old Marchioness of Villamelon, 
Fernandito’s mother, was laid out there. Even yet, yonder 
amid the heaped-up debris of the theatre, could be seen pieces 
of the catafalque which had held her body. Currita felt a 
chill of fright, and looked instinctively towards the spot in 
which the old Marchioness had been accustomed to hear 
mass every day. There was her velvet chair, all sunken 
in and destroyed, and before it her kneeling-stool, whose 
moth-eaten cushions still preserved the impression of her 
knees and arms. Currita turned her back brusquely, as if 
fearing to see the pale and angry ghost of the old lady sud- 
denly appear. 

The upper part of the closet was lined with red velvet, 
in a very good state of preservation, and upon little cushions 
of the same material were various silver relics, containing 
the bones of saints. In a corner, standing against the wall, 
was an object of more than a third the length of the closet, 
enveloped in a cover of dark morocco leather, all gnawed by 
rats. It was this object that Currita seized, holding it on 
account of its great weight with both hands, and immedi- 
ately afterwards left the chapel in great haste, as terrified as 
if she had committed a robbery in a sacred place. 

Alone again in her studio, when she had removed the ruined 
cover, she was struck with astonishment; for this was an 
artistic treasure of great value, a frame of chiselled or raised 
filigree silver work, a most remarkable and noble piece of 
execution of the sixteenth century, which had, sculptured on 
the pedestal of one of its thousand beautiful little figures, 
the illustrious name of Enrique de Arfe, maker of the Osten- 
sorium of Cordova and of the so-called antique cross. This 
marvel, however, served as a frame to an extremely strange 
and insignificant object ; upon a ground of white satin, cov- 
ered by transparent bevelled glass, was simply a bit of old 


264 


CURRITA 


rag, a piece of coarse and worn gray sackcloth. The frame 
was secured at the back by a large silver clasp, fastened 
down by tiny screws, which not without great difficulty did 
Currita succeed in drawing out. Within, bound together in 
white taffeta silk, now yellow with age, were two documents 
written in a clear handwriting of the sixteenth century, which 
could be perfectly deciphered without difficulty. Upon one 
was written: “ Piece of the cowl of the venerable servant of 
God, Friar Alonzo de Lujan, who died in odor of sanctity in 
his convent of Talavera de la Reina, January 23, 1590.” And 
on the following line, with the candid self-confidence of the 
grandees of that epoch, was the simple signature, Dona 
Catalina. 

“ Ah ! ” exclaimed Currita, very much astonished. u So 
this belonged to that — ” 

And her eyes sought out, among the thousand treasures 
which adorned her studio, an admirable head painted by 
Pantoja, of a dead Capuchin monk, in whose countenance 
beamed that serene calm which death imprints as a sign of 
predestination upon the brows of the just. That venerable 
head was in fact the portrait of Friar Alonzo of Lujan, 
brother of the fourth Marquis of Paracuellar, and had been 
transferred years before from the oratory to the drawing- 
rooms of the palace, not as an object of piety, but as a 
monument of art. 

Upon the other paper was copied this clause from the tes- 
tament of Dona Leonor Manrique de la Cerda, dividing 
among her relations a habit which had belonged to her first 
cousin, the venerable Father Alonzo of Lujan, Capuchin 
monk: 1 “My Lady the Duchess del Infantado will select 
the piece she prefers, and will give a piece to the Count 
of Salvatierra, another piece to the Count of Montigo, and 
another to my niece Dona Catalina, Marchioness of Para- 
cuellar; the girdle will be given to the Count of Salinas, 

1 This clause is literally taken from the quoted testament, without 
other variation than that of introducing into it the assumed name of 
the Marchioness of Paracuellar. 


CURRITA 


265 


my nephew, who will keep and venerate as I did a relic 
of such a holy and venerable man ; another small relic which 
I also have of the said Father Alonzo I send to my Lady 
the Duchess, and beg of her to give it, when her Excellency 
thinks proper, to the Count del Cid; and any other piece 
which her Excellency may select must be given to the Duke 
of Bajar, to whose house the said Friar Alonzo was much 
attached.” 

Currita was amazed. It seemed incredible that all these 
good people, in reality great lords and ladies, many of them 
so famous in history, should divide among them like pre- 
cious stones the pieces of a poor friar’s coarse habit. How 
the times change ! The good Dona Catalina had spent a 
small fortune in having a frame made for her little piece 
of cowl, without having the faintest suspicion that it would 
save Currita from expending a considerable sum of money. 

With a quick movement Currita shook the relic out, with- 
out touching it, and afterwards inserted the photograph in 
its place. The effect was marvellous ; and by only cutting 
the edges a little, it would fit as well as if it had been made 
to order. Currita complacently studied the effect, holding 
the portrait away from her; but the hand with which she 
held it brushed against the bit of the monk’s habit, and 
snatching it away suddenly as if she had touched a live 
coal, she glanced timidly and fearfully at Pantoja’s magnifi- 
cent head, which so admirably expressed upon the canvas 
the imposing and serene calm of death. With the same 
documents which contained the authentic testamental clause, 
she picked up Father Alonzo’s relic without touching it, and 
with a gesture which expressed repugnance as well as fear, 
disgust as well as respect, threw the whole thing into a 
dainty little waste-basket. Immediately she repented her 
action, having heard that sacred things should always be 
burned. Again she gathered it all up in the same manner, 
so as to avoid touching the relic, and now threw it into a 
fireplace, in which a fire blazed. 

Without being able to help it she again cast a rapid glance 


266 


CURRITA 


full of fear and suspicion at the pale bead of the dead monk. 
A strong odor of burning rags, sour and disagreeable, in- 
stantly diffused itself throughout the room. At this moment 
Villamelon entered in a very cheerful and contented frame 
of mind. He had just returned from Charmartin de la Rosa, 
where, at his beautiful country-seat of Miracielos, he was en- 
thusiastically trying the artificial incubation of hen’s-eggs. 

“Heavens, my dear! what a horrible smell! ” he ex- 
claimed, stopping in the doorway. “What have you been 
burning? Why, it smells like the infernal regions.” 

Currita, much annoyed, became very serious, even turning 
a trifle pale. 

“Listen, Fernandito; don’t talk nonsense. I don’t like 
joking about the things of the other world.” And she stole 
another furtive and fearful glance at the imposing head of 
Father Alonzo, as if the words had fallen from his lips. 

“ But, my dear Curra, — can’t you understand ? Call some 
one to open a window. There is a horrible odor here of 
burning rubbish or something.” 

“ But it is nothing, man ; an old paint-brush which I threw 
into the fireplace. So no more about it. Have you seen 
Lili?” 

Villamelon gave himself a blow on the forehead with the 
palm of his hand. 

“ My dear! I forgot all about it.” 

“ But did I not tell you to go and see her? ” cried Currita, 
angrily. 

“ Well, my dear, I forgot to do so. What is to be done 
about it? ” 

“Heavens! what a man! He remembers to go see his 
hens, and forgets to visit his daughter.” 

For the reader is still ignorant of the fact that neither of 
the children was at home. Four days after the scene re- 
ferred to in the preceding chapter Currita made up her mind 
and also convinced Fernandito that, as she could not dedi- 
cate herself exclusively to the education of the children, as 
had been her desire, the best thing would be to send Lili to 


4 


CURRITA 


267 


the Convent of the Sacred Heart in Chamartin, and Paquito 
to the College which the Jesuit fathers then had in Guichon 
near the Pyrenees. Neither she nor Jacob remembered that 
in this same college Alfonso Tellez-Ponce, the son of the 
latter, was also being educated. Villamelon, very sorry for 
his fault, promised to rectify it the following day, when he 
should again have to go to Chamartin, to inspect the prog- 
ress of the artificial incubation, which at this time claimed 
his whole time and attention. 


CHAPTER V 

The line formed by the carriages in front of the Marquis of 
Butron’s house extended nearly the entire length of Calle 
de Hortaleza, crossed the avenue of San Luis, and lost itself 
in the avenue of La Montera. They advanced slowly, stop- 
ping at every moment, their little doors opening and shutting 
noisily, and then moved on to take up their stand in the 
plaza of Santa Barbara. The passers-by stopped surprised, 
and many stood watching this long procession of ladies, rare 
in Madrid at the early hour of three o’clock in the afternoon. 
The Government was apparently alarmed, for several officers 
of police walked to and fro on the sidewalk opposite the 
palace, mingling with the on-lookers, or entering into con- 
versation with the coachmen and footmen, who gossiped 
among themselves, from their coach-boxes, calling each 
other, according to classic custom, by the illustrious names 
of their respective masters. The ladies sprang lightly from 
their carriages, passed through the large front door, as- 
cended the carpeted staircase, and lost themselves with a 
conspiring air in that wide, theatrical drawing-room, in 
former times famous for having had El hombre de mundo 
represented in it by Don Ventura de la Vega, and the re- 
hearsals of El pelo de la dehesa, conducted by Breton de 
los Herreros in person. A most prudent half-light reigned 


268 


CURRITA 


throughout the room, a premature twilight, which concealed 
with paternal indulgence under cover of its mysterious 
shadows the great deteriorations in the decorations, not 
capable of honorably resisting the impertinent light of 
three o’clock in the afternoon. 

To an outsider this would seem to be the humming of a 
colossal beehive, in which two hundred women were buzzing 
at the same time, amid the rustling of silks, the ric-rac of 
fans, the affected little coughs which give time to prepare 
a reply, the mellifluous little laughs which always accompany 
feminine affectation, and the perfumes peculiar to many 
different tastes and to many different toilet- tables. At 
times one of those sudden silences reigned which the 
Andalusian people attribute to the involuntary respect in- 
spired by the invisible flight of a passing angel; it was 
more probably some little devil who was arriving, some lady 
famous for something, who in crossing the threshold obliged 
criticism to fall back upon itself, in order to study the point 
upon which to discharge its volley. 

Not a man was in sight; in the lower part of the room, 
behind the simple red velvet curtain with the Butron coat 
of arms embroidered in the centre, which concealed the stage 
of the theatre, one could, however, detect something mas- 
culine, some unholy spirit which coughed and sneezed like 
the rest of mortals, as two coughs and a sneeze had reached 
the quick ears of the Senora de Barajas, who was seated 
near-by. She nudged her sister with her elbow, saying in a 
very low voice, “ There are hobgoblins here.” And the 
other, without turning her head, answered very seriously : 

“ Crusoe and his man Friday, who must have taken cold 
on the desert island.” 

It was really so. The great Robinson and Don Jose 
Pulido were behind the curtain, taking observations through 
the two imperceptible little holes which in former times had 
served to reveal the hall to the illustrious actors who had 
trodden this aristocratic stage. The worthy diplomat 
seemed to be uneasy, and Don Jose Pulido came and went 


CURRITA 


269 


silently from one little hole to the other, compressing his 
lips and shaking his head, with signs also of some anxiety. 

The assemblage was numerous, select, and well suited to 
second the plans of the diplomat ; but nevertheless an alarm- 
ing symptom was noticeable, a dangerous want of discipline 
on the part of the leading aristocracy and born Alfonsists, 
the majority of whom were grandees of Spain. These had 
all seated themselves on the left side in a group, and, whis- 
pering and exchanging among themselves little laughs and 
sarcastic signs, watched the parvenu radicals come in and 
group themselves on the opposite side, with the air of dis- 
dainful protection of the great lady who permits her maid 
to be seated in her presence four metres away. The Duchess 
of Bara alone, faithful to the countersign of the chief, had 
hastened to seat herself between the wives of the two re- 
tired ministers, — Martinez’s wife, a woman most modest 
and retiring, and who felt here like a fish out of water ; and 
Garcia Gomez’s wife, a pretentious upstart, who aspired to 
be the Duchess’s equal, with her ostentation of elegance and 
good form. 

In vain the Marchioness of Butron went from one side to 
the other, trying with her fine tact and delicate manners to 
nip in the bud these small feminine antagonisms and these 
aroused vanities, which threatened to destroy the longed-for 
fusion so dearly bought at Currita’s ball ; her painful task 
only succeeded in placing the Duchess of Astorga, a very 
kind-hearted woman, by the side of her Excellency Sra. 
Dona Paulina Gomez de Rebollar de Gonzalez de Hermo- 
silla, whose colossal figure stood out upon a very high, iso- 
lated seat between Tyrians and Trojans, silent and pensive, 
like Sappho meditating suicide from the top of the rock of 
Leucades. 

The Carlists, for their part, few in number but warlike in 
courage, formed another suspicious little group, having at 
their head a very tiny old woman, thin and nervous, with 
extremely bright eyes. It was the Baroness of Bivot, an 
illustrious Catalan, who twisted about in her seat, brandish- 


270 


CURRITA 


ing her fan with the belligerent ardor of the veteran eager 
for combat, who smells powder at a distance. Carmen 
Tagle christened her on the spot. 

“There is Zumalacarregui,” she said to her neighbor. 
“Look at her; she is spoiling for a fight.” 

Butron, fearing a catastrophe, cursed himself inwardly, 
and applied his ear instead of his eye to the little hole, to 
see if he could catch any chance word which would give him 
the clue to the course of the tempest. He could hear noth- 
ing save a tremendous buzzing like a bee-swarm in move- 
ment, which upset him and made him nervous. 

“How is it there is not one silent, among so many?” he 
exclaimed suspiciously ; and Don J ose Pulido, without losing 
his self-possession and with philosophic profundity, replied 
in a very low voice : — 

“ I prefer them to be talking, Pepe. To be silent would 
be unnatural.” 

And at this moment, as if these amiable creatures wished 
to prove that to go by contraries was the peculiar trait of 
the sex, they all suddenly ceased speaking. A profound 
silence reigned, a prolonged lull of nearly a minute’s dura- 
tion, followed in its turn by a noisy allegro , a most sudden 
crescendo , rapid and vivace. Something important was hap- 
pening, and the worthy Butron and the philosophic Pulido, 
without loss of time, hastened back, much excited, to their 
respective points of observation. The Countess of Albornoz 
was entering, with that step of which Virgil speaks, which 
reveals a queen or a goddess, bending her head with that air 
of satisfied vanity with which a certain Roman emperor bent 
his upon passing beneath the triumphal arches, as if fearing 
to graze his forehead against them. Following her was the 
Marchioness of Valdivieso, one of those convenient friends, 
easy to please, whom she always had following in her wake 
as ladies of honor, who served, according to her own expres- 
sion, as a background to her elegance. 

Leopoldina Pastor pulled her by the skirt as she passed, 
and tried to make her sit down between herself and Carmen 


CURRITA 


271 


Tagle. She wanted to teach those radicals something, those 
“ good-for-nothings ” gaping away there, giving themselves 
airs, and dreaming perhaps of the presidency. 

44 Look at them ! — what sights ! ” 

She was waiting for G-enoveva to speak, so that she might 
have an opportunity to say to these parvenus four well pro- 
nounced little words, which, however, would express but 
mildly what she felt. She would have preferred discussing 
the question on horseback, like Attila’s Huns. Currita 
tapped her affectionately on the shoulder with her fan, mur- 
muring, 4 4 C’est dr61e ! ” 

She saluted with a charming little nod the wide circle of 
her illustrious friends, and allowed herself to be gently led 
by the Marchioness of Butron to the opposite side, finally 
seating herself next to the Duchess of Bara and the two 
ministers , wives. She squeezed the hand of Martinez’s 
wife, affectionately calling her, ‘ 4 My dear ! ” and expressed 
to Garcia Gomez’s wife her profound regret for not having 
been at home the day before, when the latter had called to 
see her. 

44 1 was much vexed upon seeing your card. I should like 
so much to have had a little chat with you ; for I hope we 
shall be friends.” 

Garcia Gomez’s wife was overwhelmed with satisfaction 
before such sudden honor, and glanced about in all directions, 
as complacent and contented between these two grandees of 
Spain as the rat of the fable in the Holland cheese. Maria 
Valdivieso, with unusual self-possession, bit her lips to keep 
from laughing. The venerable Butron from his post of ob- 
servation watched all this pantomime, and murmured ner- 
vously and jubilantly: — 

“Good for Currita! The monkey Jenny is clever, by 
Jove! If Maria Villasis only does as well we shall 
triumph ! ” 

Don Jose Pulido, always a prophet of misfortune, ex- 
pressed his doubts on the subject; his fine instinct had 
divined a drawback which Butron had not considered. 


272 


CURRITA 


“ She has already a presidential air about her, Pepe,” he 
said. 

“Who?” 

“ Curra Albornoz, Pepe; I told you it would be so.” 

And so it really was ; the latter was so impressed with 
a sense of her own superiority that she did not doubt 
for a moment she would be elected, as it seemed to her that 
after the ball the presidency must follow, as logically and 
naturally as day follows night, and had accordingly already 
given various orders to Uncle Frasquito, grand master of 
her Micos, and had confided to Maria Valdivieso that same 
afternoon, on the way, several of the thousand charitable 
merry-makings which she had in view for the benefit of the 
wounded soldiers of the North, the most important of them 
being a famous kermis which would produce millions. 

Butron was very much annoyed upon hearing Pulido, and 
raised his arms as if he wished to seize the stage scenery. 

“She already has a presidential air, eh? Well, let her 
have it, Pulido. She is welcome to it, — a woman with- 
out a reputation, without one whit of self-respect. All the 
clergy would be horrified. What would the Archbishop 
say when I went to ask his blessing on the work ? Maria 
Villasis is the only one. She alone, Pulido.” 

A new manifestation of doubt on the part of the Egerian 
nymph, accompanied by the pet name of his Numa Pom- 
pilius, — a formula of the intimate and familiar friendship 
which united him to this personage. 

“ I doubt it, Pepe.” 

“ So you also find objections to Maria Villasis? ” 

“ Mountains of them, Pepe.” 

Butron, very much displeased, turned half-way round, say- 
ing, “Mole-hills, rather;” and Don Jose Pulido, without 
losing his patience, repeated in a very low voice : — 

“ I say mountains, because she will not come, Pepe.” 

“ She will not come? ” 

“ She is very susceptible to colds. Remember the last 
meeting, Pepe.” 


CURRITA 


273 


“ But she is coming, man ; she is coming. Yesterday she 
promised Veva, whom I sent there expressly, that she would 
do so.” 

And it was as he said. The Marchioness of Butron had 
been to the Marchioness of Villasis’s house the day before, 
to beg her in the name of all the saints not to fail to be 
present at the Assembly. The poor lady seemed frightened, 
and besought her to come with as much earnestness as if 
her life depended upon it. The Marchioness of Villasis, 
however, did not show herself to be very propitious, and 
laughing said : — 

“But I never should be missed, my dear; not more so 
than a dog from church.” 

“ Don’t say that, Maria, for even you yourself do not 
think so,” replied the other, in an aggrieved manner. 

“ Well, listen, Genoveva, I will be frank. If it was an 
affair of yours — yours exclusively, I would go with my 
whole heart and soul. But being what it is, if I must say 
so, .1 do not like this sweeping within of your husband’s, 
which always puts one in danger of stumbling upon l'iff- 
raff ; and, candidly, I do not care to run the risk of meeting 
face to face one Curra Albornoz, for instance, or any of 
her clique.” 

“You are right; but what can one do if Madrid is a 
cesspool ? ” 

“No, it is not a cesspool; for you and I and many 
others constitute Madrid, and thanks be to God, we are 
not cesspools. Say rather that in Madrid there is a cess- 
pool, which can be perfectly well avoided by proceeding 
with one’s skirts a trifle drawn aside; but unfortunately 
it is a cesspool which smells of eau de Cologne , and 
for that reason I see there are few who object to living 
in it.” 

“ But my house is not in this cesspool, Maria.” 

“ I know it, better than any one, because I know you 
and love you better than any one else. For that reason I 
do not refuse to go to your house, but only to the meeting 

18 


274 


CURRITA 


which your husband will hold in your house. Do you 
understand what I mean?” 

As if she feared the other might think the distinction rather 
metaphysical, she hastened to explain by adding quickly : — 

“ But you must not think from this that I also refuse, as 
one of many, to contribute to the ends of the association. 
I know very well the object of helping the wounded soldiers 
is a blind in order to reinforce the army; but it doesn’t 
matter. I also will contribute to it, but without disguising 
it as an act of charity. I do it because I was present when 
the Prince was born, and I look upon him and love him as 
if he were my own child ; and I do it also because I have 
been solemnly promised that the first care of the Restora- 
tion will be to re-establish Catholic unity ; for without this 
requisite I would do absolutely nothing.” 

The Marchioness of Villasis stopped speaking a moment, 
and without the least display of ostentation, but with only 
the natural simplicity of one who makes an insignificant 
offer, immediately added : — 

“ So, when you care to draw on me, you have ten thou- 
sand dollars at your disposal. If I could give more I 
would. ” 

The offer of this generous donation did not dazzle the 
Marchioness of Butron ; she had been much disturbed while 
her friend was speaking, and now, shaking her head ener- 
getically, said : — 

‘ ‘ I believe you, for you were born to be rich, and know 
how to be so. But your name, your name, is worth more 
than the ten thousand dollars.” 

And the other, giving her an affectionate little pat with 
her hand, and mimicking her mournful tone, added in a 
jesting manner : — 

“ Well, it is just my name, my name, which I will not 
give. Tell your husband I say so.” 

The Marchioness of Butron dropped both her hands 
dejectedly, and said in a suppressed and almost impercepti- 
ble voice : — 


CURR1TA 


275 


“ My God ! How shall I tell him that? ” 

And suddenly, letting a quick sob escape her, she 
covered her face with her handkerchief, and a flood of dis- 
consolate tears gushed from her eyes, revealing a profound 
depth of bitterness, and a grief until then silent and hidden. 
The Marchioness of Villasis sat for a moment in a state of 
suspense, astonished and afflicted, through fear of having 
caused this deep grief. 

4 4 But Genoveva, for Heaven’s sake ! have I offended 
you ? ” 

The other shook her head earnestly, trying to say between 
her sobs : — 

44 No, no, no. It is because Pepe — ” 

44 Very well, don’t tell him anything ! Do you want me 
to go? For I will do so with all my heart. How could 
I imagine I should cause you such grief ? ” And as much 
afflicted as her friend, she pressed one of her hands between 
both her own, while the Marchioness of Butron, without 
taking her handkerchief away from her face, as if shame as 
well as tears was choking her, stammered : — 

4 4 Pepe, the poor man, is so violent ! ” 

This last word was like a ray of light to the Marchioness 
of Villasis, which explained the enigma. She crossed her 
hands with a gesture of anger, of surprise, of most pro- 
found pity, and unbounded compassion. So the report was 
true and certain, which several times had reached her ears, 
that the noble Butron, the loyal gentleman, and correct 
diplomat, frequently maltreated this model wife, this illus- 
trious woman, and helpless old lady, sobbing there before 
her, hiding her husband’s shame in the depths of her heart, 
immersed in her own unhappiness. 

A violent impulse of noble anger arose in her heart, and 
she would have liked to wrest from the unhappy woman 
the whole of her secret, not only to be able to assuage her 
grief, but to avenge it. But the noble old lady, faithful to 
her dignity of wife, maintained that difficult silence with which 
heroic souls know how to crown one of the most poignant 


276 


CURRITA 


griefs on earth, the scorned and useless sacrifice ; and the 
Marchioness of Villasis did not dare question her. The first 
care of delicacy in consoling grief is to respect it, and noth- 
ing wounds so much as curiosity, which is the sacrilege, if 
we may so call it, of impertinence. A silent flood of tears 
then burst from her own eyes, the most sublime of all tears, 
those of charity, which when they cannot help or alleviate, 
at least comfort those who weep by weeping with them ; and 
only upon assuring her many times that she would go with 
the greatest pleasure the following day to her house, did she 
dare to add, with one of those heart-felt impulses which 
makes friendship seem so holy and beautiful : — 

“ Do you wish anything else, Genoveva? Can I be of 
service to you in any other way ? Tell me ! ” 

Another scarcely audible moan, which revealed the climax 
of great sorrows, the want of the last consolation, and the 
solitude of the soul, then escaped the lips of the old lady : 

“ Yes ! Yes ! you can ! Don’t you see? To be able to 
weep before some one, and to have some one to weep with 
me, is a great deal.” 

And upon taking her leave, now completely calm and con- 
soled, she said to the Marchioness of Villasis with an evident 
purpose : — 

“ I warn you that I have only asked you to come to the 
house to-morrow. For whatever may occur there, no one 
can hold me responsible, and you may refuse your co-opera- 
tion without fear.” 

And she added with a sad smile : — 

“ If I were in your place I would do the same.” 


CHAPTER VI 

The Marchioness of Villasis had not yet come; it was 
already half-past three, and Butron was in mortal agony 
for fear of being fooled a second time by the lady. With 


CURRITA 


277 


his eye glued to the little hole in the curtain, he disguised 
his bad humor and his fears, so as not to expose himself 
to the importunate remarks of Pulido, who meanwhile was 
observing through the other little hole, and confirming him- 
self more and more in his own opinion ; both affording to 
whosoever might enter from the back of the theatre a 
spectacle original and curious in the extreme. The two 
little points of observation were quite low dowm, in order 
that they might be hidden on the right side by the border 
of the scutcheon ; and to be able to look through them, one 
was obliged to stoop in a most uncomfortable position, very 
similar, not to quote others, to that used by the Ohio savages 
when deliberating in their councils. Ovid did not state 
whether the enamoured Pyramus took such a comic attitude 
or not, when seeking a fissure in the wall through which to 
contemplate Thisbe; if such, however, was the case, the 
gallant lover was fortunate in not having been seen by the 
lady. Suddenly, from the back of the theatre resounded 
heavy footsteps, which made the boards of the stage creak. 
Butron turned quickly, waving both his outstretched hands, 
and importuning the indiscreet person in an angry sotto voce , 
like King Lear to the good Kent : — 

“ Softly, demon, softly ! ” 

It was Uncle Frasquito, who came in, trampling under 
foot the countersign permitting no entrance to this retreat ; 
he was in a hurry, and anxious to see what was going on in 
the feminine Congress. He wore a most elegant cravat, an 
ornament in which profound observers frequently find re- 
flected the moral character of the individual. Uncle Fras- 
quito’s cravat on this occasion was of blue Japanese silk, 
coquettishly fastened with a scarf-pin containing a single 
pearl, the emblem of grand master to Currita’s Micos. 
The Countess had charged him to meet her at Butron’s 
house, that she might give him without loss of time her first 
commissions as President. 

The new-comer made mute signs to the diplomat not to be 
vexed, and Butron, execrating under his breath, returned to 


278 


CURRITA 


his post of observation, privately charging Don Jose Pulido 
to repeat to the servants the rigorous countersign. But the 
latter, fearful lest the intruder should usurp his post, pre- 
tended not to understand, and thus the door was left open 
to the worst calamity which could befall them. While Uncle 
Frasquito was in vain trying to find another little hole, and 
not succeeding, began to slyly make one himself with a 
pen-knife, a large shadow appeared at the back of the 
stage, gliding along very softly, with its body bent and 
limping and its hand extended. It was Diogenes, the 
cynical Diogenes, who upon seeing the three personages 
glued to the curtain, their backs turned and stooping in 
the attitudes above referred to, stopped a moment, a silent 
laugh escaping him, like the laugh of a jackal or a hyena, 
which, had Uncle Frasquito seen it, would have made the 
hairs of his wig stand on end. He crossed his arms, shook 
his great head up and down, and disappeared stealthily be- 
hind the scenes and beneath the stage, like a Nihilist who 
plunges into the bowels of the earth in order to plot sinis- 
ter projects. 

“ Maria Villasis! Maria Villasis ! ” whispered Butron at 
this same moment, with an air of triumph, and immediately 
glued his eye again to the hole, that he might lose no detail 
of the scene which would follow. The Marchioness had 
really arrived, her presence causing a general movement of 
surprise, followed by a prolonged murmur, which dissipated 
Butron’s anxiety, made the Duchess of Bara smile triumph- 
antly, and caused Currita to bite her lips, — the latter at once 
scenting a rival, the most to be feared because she was 
the most detested. In the minds of all present flashed at 
the same time the idea that the Marchioness was the one 
destined for President, for she impressed them all, for 
various reasons. The sensible and honorable women saw 
in her the model type of a great lady of virtue and prestige, 
gracious and affable, who, firm in her convictions in the 
midst of a frivolous and corrupt society, silently imposed 
upon them all the powerful criticism of good example. The 


CURRITA 


279 


others, more frivolous or less honorable, saw in her never- 
theless the woman of talent, the lady of great name and 
immense riches, who, firm and independent in character, and, 
without at all relinquishing the just privileges which high 
rank exacts, knew how to draw the line at everything which 
violated her conscience or her self-respect, thus constituting 
what the mediocrities of habit so much admire, who are only 
capable of copying what pleases their vanity or seduces 
their instincts. Hers was an original type, genuinely noble, 
gracious, and honorable. 

Some, not knowing — as in fact none knew, except the 
Marchioness of Butron and the Duchess of Bara — the way in 
which the committee would be arranged, let this idea of the 
presidency escape in their mysterious whisperings; and 
Martinez’s wife, with frank, although somewhat provincial 
ingenuousness, made the following remark, which at any 
other time would have provoked the biting satire of the 
Duchess of Bara : — 

“ The Marchioness of Villasis is every inch a Mar- 
chioness ! ” 

Maria Valdivieso, with her customary lack of tact, leaned 
toward Currita, as if to brush away a thread which spoilt 
the complicated tie of her bonnet strings, and said to her in 
a very low voice : — 

“ Eh ! how is this? We did not count upon this neighbor. 
Are you afraid of her?” 

The other drew herself up like a Juno who is told that 
the most insignificant of Olympus’s nymphs is about to be 
seated in her chariot drawn by peacocks, and answered 
disdainfully : — 

“Afraid of her? She has never even caused me to yawn,” 
which is the most depreciative of all actions. 

The Marchioness of Villasis was also making observations. 
She glanced through the drawing-room and instantly took in 
the usual heterogeneous Madrid crowd, in which virtue and 
vice are mingled in friendly intercourse, representing the 
immortal history of the rotten apple, which communicates its 


280 


CURRITA 


corruptness and its worms to the good ones, without receiv- 
ing from the latter either their delicious taste or their 
healthful fragrance; the wanton and noxious mixture of 
great names and great shames, spotless fame and scandalous 
reputations, all dressed in the same brilliant varnish of ele- 
gant fashion, mingled together and confounded by the same 
blind appetite for pleasure, by the same foolish impulses of 
vanity, and by the same irresistible inclination to shake off 
ennui and distract their minds, — the frightful and constant 
temptation of the great and rich, which lures them on to all 
their extravagances, and results in all their misdeeds. 

44 Heavenly Father! ” thought the lady. 44 What a great 
work would be that of dissolving this mixture which repulses 
and poisons, and which by taking from vice all social sanc- 
tion, would stamp its brow with a sign of infamy, restrain- 
ing it, if not as yet through the fear of God, at least through 
shame and human respect ; for it familiarizes even the most 
upright consciences with scandal, and destroys the powerful 
barrier of horror and wonder, which should separate the 
good from the scandalous ; the former, by tolerating the 
latter in the beginning, only succeeding by following their 
example in the end. What great good might not one do, 
who, prompted by the same spirit of Christian charity with 
which are founded asylums for orphans, and houses of 
refuge for girls gone astray, would found a salon for honor- 
able women, and decent men, in which without any risk of 
bad example, youth might find the just, legitimate, and even 
necessary distractions peculiar to their years, and might 
obtain without any shameless masquerading, that noble and 
worthy, as well as gay and happy intercourse which refines 
and softens men’s inclinations, fertilizes and restrains those 
of women, and foments that mutual intercourse and mutual 
acquaintanceship from which arise chaste sympathies and 
the germs of pure and holy love, the latter serving as a solid 
basis to happy and well weighed marriages, and Christian 
and exemplary families ! And charity, that charity derived 
from heaven, alone holy and legitimate, which sees every- 


CURRITA 


281 


thing with its quick-sighted eyes, embraces everything with 
its insatiable activity, and guards against everything with its 
loving perspicacity, leaving no grief unassuaged, no trouble 
uncomforted or wound unhealed, — has it never directed its 
attention to this gangrenous ulcer ? Can it be that the poor 
peasant girl and the unfortunate servant girl, whom aban- 
donment precipitates into the mire of cellars, and whom 
charity shelters in a house of refuge, are more worthy of pity 
than the well-born young lady and rich heiress, whom an 
abandonment different only in form, precipitates in the same 
manner into the mire of drawing-rooms ? And to think that, 
after all, the cure is not so difficult as it would at first seem, 
and that it would be perhaps sufficient if one woman of 
prestige and energy, shutting her eyes to conventional 
human respect and culpable social condescension, would in- 
augurate for the love of God a drawing-room of refuge, 
casting to the four winds of high Madrid society, for all 
invitation, this stupendous announcement : ‘ The Marchion- 
ess So-and-So, or the Duchess So-and-So, At Home every 
evening to honorable women and decent men ! ’ ” 

And when something very deep, but very clear and dis- 
tinct whispered to the Marchioness of Villasis, in the depths 
of her conscience, that she might be, and even should be, 
this Marchioness So-and-So, or that Duchess So-and-So, she 
was interrupted in the midst of her strange reflections by the 
voice of Genoveva Butron, who, considering the' feminine 
congress to be now convened, began to expound the object 
of the meeting. 

The Marchioness in her speech adhered strictly to the 
plan traced out beforehand by Butron, avoiding with con- 
summate cleverness the rough points, and the tremendous 
lies inserted by the diplomat. She spoke very gently, with 
simplicity exempt from all pedantry, and with the tact and 
self-possession which continual intercourse with people, and 
the consciousness of their own nobility give to persons born 
and bred in high life. Butron, stooping before his small 
point of observation, listened with his heart in his mouth to 


282 


CURRITA 


his wife’s discourse, extending his hands and beating time, 
like the director of an orchestra conducting an operatic 
score, or a magnetizer emitting from himself with strange 
passes of his hands a mysterious fluid. He seemed to be 
thoroughly well satisfied. The misery of the unfortunate 
soldiers, wounded in the northern campaign, was great and 
painful, and should justly awaken in the hearts of all Spanish 
women the most compassionate sentiments. For this reason 
she, the Marchioness of Butron, had taken the liberty of 
calling together those present, to beg of them for the love of 
God and compassion towards these unfortunates, to unite 
their efforts in their behalf, by forming an association of 
ladies, which, propagated through all the provinces, could 
thus gather together numerous resources for this object. 

The first part of the Marchioness’s discourse was reduced 
to this, and was listened to in a religious silence. There 
was a pause, in which the different factions looked from one 
to the other, all silently on the alert, with the solemn ex- 
pectation of opposed armies, who await, before showing fight, 
the sound of the first discharge. The Baroness of Bivot, 
the valiant Zumalacarregui, broke fire first, with an excellent 
shot of the most accurate logic. 

“ The idea could not be more charitable nor more holy, 
and I suppose it merits the approbation of all these ladies 
as it merits mine,” she said, fanning herself slowly. “ But 
it must be remembered that in this northern campaign there 
are two Spanish armies ” — and the wicked old lady accented 
the Spanish, with an ambiguous little laugh, which made 
Butron jump behind the curtain — “the government army 
and the Carlist army. In both there are wounded soldiers, 
and in both there is misery. I suppose, therefore, that these 
resources which will be gathered together will be divided 
into two equal parts ; one for the wounded soldiers of the 
government, and the other for the Carlists.” 

A sepulchral silence prevailed throughout the room. 
Butron giving nervous starts, fumed, beside himself, in his 
hiding-place. 


CURRITA 


283 


“ The devil take the old woman ! What an idea ! Of 
course this was my plan, — for the Carlists to buy firearms 
with the funds of my association! And the stupid Veva is 
silent ! Answer, Geno, idiot ! Answer no ; let her go if 
she likes, but not one cent will she get from here. I will 
denounce her first ! ” 

The Marchioness, much perturbed, did not answer, in fact, 
for this logical observation, so well timed and unexpected, 
really had no answer. The Marchioness of Villasis, pity- 
ing the confusion of her friend, instantly hastened to her 
assistance. 

“ The Baroness is quite right,” she said; “ but neverthe- 
less, she has not considered an insuperable objection. The 
government will doubtless permit all kinds of help to be dis- 
tributed in the army ; but it could not possibly tolerate the 
passage of any money whatsoever for the Carlists. For this 
reason the association must content itself with aiding the 
wounded soldiers of the army, leaving those who wish 
secretly to go to the aid of the Carlists.” And turning 
towards the Baroness she added with a significant smile : — 

“ I suppose, Baroness, you know very well the way to do 
so, but if there should be any who do not know, I can 
show them a very sure medium through which to send help 
to these unfortunate soldiers, who are no less in need and 
no less worthy. I already have my own plan drawn out ; 
the half of what I can give will go to Genoveva, and the 
other half I shall send, through this medium of which I speak, 
to the Carlists.” 

What a face Butron made ! At the Marchioness’s first 
words, he breathed heavily, murmuring, “The amendment 
is not bad.” But when he saw, by the turn which the lady 
gave to her answer, and by the plan which she expounded, 
that it was not a stratagem which she made use of, but a 
real project that others could imitate, he lost all patience, and 
quite beside himself growled between his pointed whiskers : 

“The devil! the devil! the devil! The cure is worse 
than the malady; everything will be ruined by this; they 
will rob us of half the funds — will ruin us.” 


284 


CURRITA 


Pulido, with his phlegmatic suaveness, then said to him : 

“ Don’t worry, Pepe. Few will give if they must do so 
in secret.” 

The valiant Zumalacarregui, stopped short by the no less 
logical reply of the Marchioness, hung fire, and took refuge 
on the Aventine Mount with a retreat worthy of Jenofonte. 

The Marchioness of Butron took advantage of this favor- 
able opportunity to resume the most difficult part of her 
discourse. It would be necessary to appoint a directive 
Committee, and for this object she would read out a can- 
didature made by the advice of authorized persons, to be 
submitted to the approbation of all present. 

It was a daring stroke, and the imposition was quite mani- 
fest ; for it was natural to suppose that no one would dare 
to oppose a plan proposed by such an estimable lady in her 
own house. The silence was profound, and one might al- 
most have heard the nervous blinking of Butron’s and 
Pulido’s eyelids glued to the curtain, the audible breathing 
which it cost Uncle Frasquito to maintain himself steadily 
in his uncomfortable position, or the symptoms of laughter 
in Diogenes, who, concealed in the prompter’s box in front 
of the curtain, with his back to the audience, was listening 
first to one, then to the other, and was doubtless concocting 
some diabolical plan which made him laugh to himself. The 
Marchioness drew out a large sheet of paper and began to 
read in a somewhat strained voice : — 

“ President: her Excellency the Marchioness of Villasis.” 

General murmur of approbation. A brusque movement 
from Currita, and a sudden flash of anger and concentrated 
rage, ready to overflow in her light eyes. Behind the curtain, 
Butron smiled contentedly, and Pulido gave a sigh of relief. 
Uncle Frasquito, surprised and indignant upon seeing his 
queen dethroned, lost his equilibrium and grasped the cur- 
tain, almost upsetting his companions, who with mute ges- 
tures and furious looks called him to order. In the prompt- 
er’s box Diogenes made a face as much as to say, “ You 
are all very fresh,” and continued laughing to himself. 


CURRITA 


285 


The Marchioness of Butron continued : — 
“Vice-President: her Excellency the Countess of Al- 
bornoz.” 

A profound silence. Two hundred scrutinizing eyes were 
fixed upon the one mentioned, and Izabel Mazacan waved 
to her from a distance an ironical little salute of congratula- 
tion. Currita bit her lips, and bloody circles appeared around 
the pupils of her eyes. A bit of lace from her handkerchief 
slipped from her lap to the floor. Behind the curtain Butron 
was again alarmed, Pulido murmured, “I told you so,” and 
Uncle Frasquito resisted the impulse to cover his face with 
his hands, for fear of again losing his equilibrium. Diogenes 
had disappeared from the box. 

The Marchioness of Butron continued : — 

“ Members : Her Excellency the Duchess of Astorga and 
her Excellency the Countess of Villarcayo.” 

A movement of horror in Zumalacarregui’s army. A 
gesture of protest from the chief. The favored one smiles 
idiotically, which reveals the reason why she figures in the 
list. 

The Marchioness of Butron continued : — 

“ Her Excellency the Marchioness of Minahonda, aud her 
Excellency Sra. Dona Servanda Molinillos de Martinez.” 

A modest blush on the face of the latter, who extends her 
hands with a gesture of protest and shakes her head nega- 
tively. The Duchess of Bara encourages her affectionately. 
Garcia Gomez’s wife restrains her indignation until certain 
whether or not she is to be included in the list. Behind the 
curtain Butron looks at Pulido, and Pulido looks at Butron, 
and both laugh. Uncle Frasquito, standing on his dignity, 
remains in his stooping position. Diogenes appears on the 
stage and gropes about for something near the wall, between 
the scenes on the left side. 

The Marchioness of Butron continued : — 

“Her Excellency the Countess of Macharnudo and her 
Excellency the Duchess of Bara.” 

A secret feeling of surprise on the latter’s part, upon see- 


286 


CURRITA 


ing herself included in the group in which, by Butron’s 
exactions, only honorable women were to figure. 

The Marchioness paused, examined the auditorium a mo- 
ment, and continued reading : — 

44 Secretary : her Excellency Sra. Dona Paulina Gomez 
de Rebollar de Gonzalez de Hermosilla.” 

A violent start from Leopoldina Pastor, who expected the 
post, and an energetic 44 Good-for-nothing! ” which revolved 
anonymously in the air without knowing upon whom to 
alight. Carmen Tagle laughed immoderately. The chosen 
one maintained a majestic silence, adjusted her gold-rimmed 
spectacles, and planned to instil the rhetoric of Marcus Tul- 
lius into her official documents. The Duchess of Astorga 
congratulated her without a bit of malice. Back of the 
curtain Butron waited, Pulido feared, and Uncle Frasquito 
meditated. Diogenes discovered next to the wall a little 
cord, which seemed to hang from the roof, and examined it 
attentively. 

The Marchioness of Butron concluded : 

4 4 Treasurer : her Excellency Sra. Dona Ramona Gomez 
de Lopez Moreno/’ 

Symptoms of apoplexy in the interested party. Her joint 
mother-in-law, the Duchess of Bara, saluted her from a dis- 
tance. Great whisperings are now heard, which grow and 
swell in volume like blasts of wind from a hurricane, which, 
whistling at first, end in a growl. Suddenly there was a 
mysterious creaking ; then a profound silence, and general 
surprise. 

Diogenes had pulled the little cord, the curtain flew up 
rapidly and disclosed to the astonished eyes of these hun- 
dreds of Thisbes the three stooping Pyramuses: Butron, 
Pulido, and Uncle Frasquito! Tableau! 


CURRITA 


287 


CHAPTER VII 

The association of women was a complete fiasco, and only 
after an interval of two months, and at the cost of much 
labor, could Butron organize another, on a very different 
basis, which did not fail to reap, especially in the provinces, 
a most abundant harvest. The Marchioness of Villasis had 
roundly refused to accept the presidency ; Currita rejected 
the humiliating offer of a secondary post, with signs of great 
resentment; the Carlists, very indignant, withdrew to one 
side, and the radicals, much offended, to the other, leaving 
unfinished the epic poem to charity, which her Excellency 
Sra. Dona Paulina Gomez de Rebollar de Gonzalez de Her- 
mosilla was perpetrating in silence ; and empty was the 
large Pompadour purse of red velvet which Lopez Moreno’s 
wife was about to order from the modiste, in which to collect 
the donations. 

Don Jose Pulido unfolded the three little joints of his 
index finger, and shook it up and down as if to say, “I 
told you so ; ” and the judicious diplomat, with the energy 
of constancy which consists, not in always acting in the 
same manner, but in always having the same end in view, 
employed other means to attain his object and consoled him- 
self with the reflection that Napoleon had also made mis- 
takes in the Russian war, Cyrus in the war of the Scythians, 
Caesar in Africa, and Alexander in India. The following 
day an indignation meeting was held at the Countess of 
Albornoz’s house, and the proud lady adopted for herself 
Marat’s reply to Camille Desmoulins and Freron, when the 
two latter proposed to him that they incorporate their re- 
spective newspapers La Tribune des Patriotes and L'Ami 
du Peuple : ‘ 4 The eagle always soars alone, geese go in 

flocks.” She was the eagle, the rest of the ladies were the 
geese. Butron was their tender. 


288 


CURRITA 


The sensitive Countess deeply sympathized, however, with 
the fate of these unfortunate wounded soldiers of the North ; 
and she resolved to do, single-handed and at her own ex- 
pense, all that she could to alleviate them, by communicating 
directly with the general-in-chief of the army, and with the 
gallant General Pastor, Leopoldina’s brother. She called 
together her Micos , assembled her intimate friends, and 
mapped out an enchanting programme of festivals, balls, 
and merry-makings, all for the benefit of the wounded 
soldiers ; among which the one to carry off the palm would 
be a famous kermis, originated by Currita in imitation of 
the one organized in Paris by The Figaro at the Opera 
House, for the benefit of the inundated inhabitants of Sze- 
gedin. The most famous actresses and the most conspicu- 
ous women of fashion, all levelled by the same compassionate 
sentiments, had done wonders in it, by sacrificing in behalf 
of these distressed people the more or less fancy values of 
their respective shames. In barely two hours Mme. Judic 
had collected more than five thousand francs by selling 
marrons glaces. What could not Currita collect by selling 
for even half an hour, were it only peanuts or roasted chick- 
peas? 

Jacob’s permission to the project was lacking, however, 
and without this requisite the lady did not dare take any 
steps in anything in which money would be required ; but 
strange to say, Jacob did not put in an appearance at her 
house during the entire evening, nor did he come to break- 
fast the following day as usual. Currita alarmed, sent a 
message to the house of her absent friend, to find out the 
cause of his strange eclipse; his valet’s reply was most 
decisive : — 

“The Marquis of Sabadell had left Madrid the night 
before.” 

Currita was dumfounded. Jacob gone, and without say- 
ing a word to her, without even sending her a message, if 
only four words ? What a stab to her heart, and above all 
what a blow to her self-love ! For what would people say 


CURRITA 289 

when they began to realize the disregard and indifference 
which this proved? 

This scene occurred in the dining-room, where husband 
and wife were breakfasting in company with Maria Valdi- 
vieso, Celestino Reguera, and Gorito Sardona, whose new 
blue cravat proved him to be on this occasion the Mico of 
honor. They all looked at Currita very much surprised and 
with a questioning air, upon learning of Jacob’s departure, 
and Villamelon, suspending for a moment the feverish activ- 
ity with which he was wielding his carving knife of massive 
gold, gift of Ferdinand VII. , said in a doleful voice : — 

44 Jacob is in a bad way, and it grieves me very much.” 

And as if the sorrow which his friend’s misfortunes caused 
him served to aid his digestive organs, he swallowed at 
once a whole cutlet, which melted in his mouth from pure 
lusciousness, like a meringue. 

44 But, my dear Fernandito,” replied Maria Valdivieso, “I 
do not think Jacob suffers from any complaint. He is stout 
and robust; Paco Velez told me so yesterday, and he is 
developing a double chin like any ultramarine merchant.” 

4 4 But it is not that, Maria, you know,” said Villamelon, 
with his mouth full. 44 1 say he is in a bad way because he 
is going to the bad. Do you understand me? ” 

* Everybody was silent, their heads bent upon their plates, 
and all glancing out of the corner of their eyes at Currita, 
who, having lost her appetite no doubt, was peeling with the 
utmost nicety and care a splendid apricot. Villamelon, who 
always struggled at the table between his desire to speak 
and his desire to eat, continued with some impatience : — 

4 4 The little French girl — the — the — What is her name ? 
What a nuisance ! I lose my memory for days at a time ! 
You know, Gorito! What is her name, man, — the lady of 
the camellias ? ” 

Gorito opened his eyes very wide and stretched his mouth 
without having the faintest recollection of anything. His 
memory had suddenly become as blank as a sheet of white 
paper. Maria Valdivieso winked rapidly at Currita, as if to 

19 


290 


CURRITA 


let her know she could give her some important information, 
and Villamelon concluded more and more impatiently : — 

“Well, it doesn’t matter; I don’t remember. But it is 
she, in fine, who is plucking him of his feathers.” 

The silence became still more embarrassing, and the ma- 
licious little spirit of hilarity began to flutter about the guests, 
as if it had dawned upon them all that the feathers wrested 
from Jacob were plucked from Villamelon’s skin. Currita, 
still peeling her apricot, took advantage of a moment in which 
the servants were not present to say in a half-whisper, and 
with her softest accent : — 

“Fernandito, my love, you assuredly have the gift of 
making ill-timed remarks ; you are like a watch out of order. 
Who would have thought of speaking of such things before 
the servants ? Heaven knows what they will think of poor 
Jacob.” 

Villamelon with much dignity immediately replied : — 

“Listen, Curra. I never discuss at the table, you know. 
You have a partiality for Jacob, but you are going to be 
sadly disappointed in him. Do you understand me ? This 
sudden little journey makes a bad impression upon me ; I 
can wager he does not go alone.” 

Currita put the apricot now already peeled in her plate, 
washed the tips of her fingers in the finger-bowl of rich Ve- 
netian glass which she had before her, and looking at the 
tiny drops of water which trickled from her rosy little nails, 
said ingenuously : — 

“Of course not! He will doubtless take one of his 
valets.” 

Villamelon nearly choked, and looked at his wife, then at 
Gorito, and lastly at Reguera with a certain air of choleric 
complacency written in his face, which was convulsed and 
apoplectic from the vapors of his full stomach. He was ex- 
asperated at times by this simplicity of Curra’s, who could 
never understand the malice of certain things! 

The breakfast was over at last, and Currita left the dining- 
room, her arm locked in her cousin’s, carrying in her hand a 


CURRITA 


291 


small china plate filled with bread-crumbs for the little gold- 
fish which, in a magnificent crystal and gilded bronze aqua- 
rium, adorned one of the corridors. She was in love with 
these little gayly colored fish, and of all sporting pleasures 
fishing caused her the most satisfaction. 


“ Regalarete entonces 
Mil varios pecicillos 
Que al verte, simplecillos 
De ti se haran prender ” 

“ I will make you a present 
Of a thousand little fish 
Who, when they see you, the simpletons, 

Will make you love them.” 

Maria Valdivieso listened stupefied to these idyllic expan- 
sions, because she had expected that Currita would question 
her with the same fury and the same transports with which 
Othello had questioned Iago. The disappointment was too 
much for her, and she exclaimed very indignantly : — 

“These are some of the outbursts which fishing inspires! 
I cannot find a more exact definition for the sport than that 
which describes the fishing-rod as 4 a long pole which termi- 
nates at one end with a fish, and at the other with a fool.’ ” 

44 All a question of taste,” replied Currita. And she began 
to throw her crumbs to the fish, speaking to them with the 
affection and indulgence of a mother caressing her little ones. 

“Be still, little gluttons! What an appetite! Gently! 
Eat in peace, there is enough for all. Look, look, Maria, 
how they open their little mouths. How delicious! How 
cunning ! ” 

4 4 This woman is as cold-blooded as an eel,” thought the 
Marchioness of Valdivieso, very much vexed. 44 Very well ! 
Just wait ; I will arouse you yet ! ” 

And she began to tell her, in confirmation of Villamelon’s 
thesis, perfect horrors of Jacob. Paco Velez had told her 
everything the night before. She, of course, from prudence, 
had for some time held her peace, but it was time now to 


292 


CURRITA 


speak; and as a true friend it was her duty to enlighten 
her. 

“Naughty! Glutton ! ” said Currita at that moment. 
“Don’t bite! Did you see that? For whom are those 
bubbles ! For you ? Are those little bubbles for me ? ” 
And straightening herself up a little she said, still looking 
at the aquarium : — 

“I beg pardon, my dear! where did you say that French 
girl lives ? ” 

“ I did n’t say anything about it,” cried the other, her in- 
dignation changing to fury ; “ but I will tell you now, so you 
will open your eyes. She lives in Calle Rebollo, No. 68, in 
her own house. Do you understand? — in an extremely 
pretty hotel, and her name is — what is her name? Well, I 
don’t remember, but it was a name like some pill.” 

“ Stories, my dear, all stories of idle people,” replied Cur- 
rita, tranquilly handling her crumbs. And with feverish 
anxiety she reviewed in her mind the names of all the pills 
known, and made violent efforts to engrave upon her mem- 
ory Calle Rebollo and No, 68. 

“Stories!” exclaimed the Marchioness of Valdivieso, 
beside herself. “And is the journey also a story? With 
the accompanying valet, of course ! ” 

“ Of course it is ! ” suddenly exclaimed Currita, angrily 
flinging all the crumbs into the aquarium. “It is a story, 
and a story of malicious intent, Maria! As if I didn’t 
know! And as if other people are not always better ac- 
quainted with one’s private affairs than one’s self. You are 
my friend, and I tell you in confidence that Jacob has gone 
away on business for the party, and will return very soon. 
So now you see how things are distorted.” 

“Ah!” exclaimed Maria Valdivieso, swallowing the lie; 
and Currita at last breathed somewhat more freely, for this 
story, which her cousin would hasten to propagate throughout 
Madrid, by reason of its having been told her in confidence, 
would conceal from the eyes of the world the wound to her 
self-love. At three o’clock the Countess ordered her vie- 


CURKITA 


293 


toria, and, as if the most natural thing in the world, gave 
the coachman Jacob’s address. The latter lived in Calle 
Alcala, in delightful bachelor’s quarters, his household con- 
sisting of a valet, a jockey, a housekeeper, and a cook. In 
the stable, located at one end of Calle del Barquillo, he had 
four English horses, three driving horses, and one saddle 
horse, a landau, a cliar-di-bancs , and a victoria. The munifi- 
cence of the Villamelons defrayed all these expenses, which 
the faithful friend would repay once the Restoration was 
established, when he would reap the benefit of the ministerial 
portfolio, the future price of his mysterious papers. 

Currita went lightly up the steps to the vestibule of Jacob’s 
dwelling, and rang the bell three times before any one an- 
swered her. The door was at last opened by the jockey, 
who, without uniform, collar, or cravat, his eyes glistening, 
his mouth working, and a strong odor of wine about him, 
seemed dazed at finding himself face to face with the lady ; 
he took a step backwards, saying confusedly : — 

“ The Marquis is away.” 

“ I know it. I want to see Damian.” 

It was not necessary to call him ; at the end of the passage- 
way his head could be distinguished, and behind him the 
housekeeper and the cook, all red and flustered, as if the 
visit had surprised them in the midst of a sumptuous 
banquet. Damian came forward very serenely, exchanging 
with the perturbed jockey a malicious wink, a sly, roguish 
act, which the Countess distinctly saw, and which, in spite of 
her shamelessness, made the little bit of great lady still left 
in her rise in rebellion. 

“Come in, your Ladyship,” he said; and he hurriedly 
threw open the two drawing-room doors, raising the velvet 
curtain to allow the lady to pass. The latter crossed the 
room rapidly, opened for herself the door of a small adjoin- 
ing room, and did not stop until she had reached Jacob’s 
private study, as if she was quite at home there. Seating 
herself in an arm-chair she said : — 

“ How is this, Damian? What has been the cause of this 


294 


CURRITA 


sudden departure? I was only able to see the Marquis a 
moment, and that, when people were present.” 

“ I really don’t know,” replied Damian, shrugging his 
shoulders. “The Marquis arose yesterday at one o’clock 
in the afternoon, and went out without his breakfast. He 
returned about six o’clock and ordered his trunks to be 
packed.” 

“Did he take much baggage? He told me he expected 
to be gone several days.” 

“Yes, my Lady! he took a trunk and two valises. I 
packed them myself.” 

‘ 4 Did he go alone, then, after all ? He told me he might 
perhaps have to accompany some French ladies.” 

Damian seemed to be very much taken aback, and again 
shrugged his shoulders. 

“ Demetrio accompanied him to the station. I remained 
at home.” 

“Call Demetrio ; I am interested in knowing.” 

Demetrio appeared, half drunk, and turned to look at 
Damian, trying to hide a smile. He had not seen anything, 
in the midst of so much confusion, but in the Marquis’s car 
there was other baggage. 

“ Did he go in a sleeping-car?” 

“ No ; it was a private car.” 

Currita bit her lips. 

“ Did he leave his address here? ” 

“No, madam.” 

“I asked, so you might forward his mail to him. He 
left his address with me.” 

“ If your Ladyship wishes, I can bring you any letters 
that come for him, if you care to forward them.” 

“Yes, that is the best and quickest,” said Currita, hastily. 
At this moment a most vehement desire took possession of 
her to go through the house. It was very pretty and every- 
thing was very well arranged, — the drawing-room, the two 
little adjoining rooms, the study, the bedroom, bathroom, 
and dressing-room. In the latter a picture attracted her 


CURRITA 


295 


attention. It represented a bunch of camellias, from the 
centre of which arose the bust of a blond woman, luxu- 
riously reclining upon this bed of flowers so artistically ar- 
ranged. There was no doubt of it ; it was the anonymous 
French girl, the one with the name like the pill which was so 
cruelly strangling her. She stopped a moment to look at it 
with an air of intelligence. 

“A pretty idea! The pose is correct. Who is it?” 

Damian again shrugged his shoulders. 

“ She is a French woman who paints these things, the 
daughter of a general. His Lordship bought the picture 
some time ago.” 

“Ah! yes. Now I know who it is: she lives in Calle 
Rebollo, No. 68. What is her name?” 

“Her name? I really don’t remember, but it is a queer 
one, like the name of an elixir.” 

Currita controlled a movement of impatience, because 
things were beginning to get more and more complicated. 
One said the name was like a pill and the other like an elixir, 
but she only knew positively that it had something to do 
with an apothecary shop. On going through the dining- 
room, the housekeeper advanced to meet her, very attentive 
and obsequious, making her robust person as big as pos- 
sible in order to hide from the Countess the sight of the 
table, upon which were the remains of the feast in which 
these worthies had been indulging in the absence of their 
master. 

The cook, a downright rascal, hastened forward from the 
other end of the room, with a good-natured and patronizing 
air, and invited her also to see his kitchen ; Currita flushed 
crimson, but dared not refuse. Clenching her fists with 
rage and indignation, the lady got into her carriage and 
ordered the coachman to drive to General Belluga’s house. 
That sly little laugh of the jockey’s, and that unlikely con- 
fusion which prevented him from seeing whether his master 
accompanied any ladies or not, made a very bad impression 
upon her, and she resolved to find out the truth for herself. 


296 


CURRITA 


The general’s carriage was at the door, the footman reclin- 
ing against the door-post, and the coachman, with his flaring 
cockade, stiff upon the box-seat. On the stairs, ready to go 
out, the Countess met the general’s wife and her daughters, 
two buds recently graduated from York College in England, 
who were beginning to lose, in the vitiated atmosphere of 
drawing-rooms, the natural perfume of their innocence and 
purity, as rosemary and thyme, shut up in a musk-box, lose 
their healthy fragrance. The Countess called them her little 
goddaughters, for at her famous ball given on a broad 
basis, they had been presented to the world for the first time 
under her auspices. 

The ladies offered to turn back, and Currita, without op- 
posing the polite suggestion, readily consented. Ah! she 
was playing the r61e of Cain, as she had come for nothing 
less than to rob her friend for a whole afternoon of one of 
her goddaughters. She and the other ladies were over- 
worked, begging contributions for the poor wounded soldiers, 
and objects of all sorts for the raffle or kermis, which prom- 
ised to be a great success. She had been left to herself 
that afternoon, and so had come to find an agreeable com- 
panion and guardian angel, who would help her collect the 
things. What compassionate heart could resist such a sup- 
plicant! And she kissed Margarita, the elder of the two 
sisters, upon the cheek, who, fixing upon her her large eyes of 
heavenly blue, smiled as an innocent child might smile at the 
various plays of light reflected on the brilliant scales of a 
serpent. The general’s wife immediately gave her consent, 
feeling highly honored ; and this exemplary lady, this 
affectionate and Christian mother, who had brought up her 
children in the holy fear of God, and in the fold of purity, 
intrusted, without any misgivings whatsoever, the most beau- 
tiful of her daughters to this notorious character and out- 
rageous impostor. They all left the house together, the 
Countess of Albornoz leading the way, leaning upon Marga- 
rita’s arm ; half-way down the steps she turned vivaciously 
and said : — 


CURRITA 


297 


“As we shall be late getting through, I shall take my 
goddaughter home to dine with me, if I may ? ” 

“ Certainly, Countess, whatever you like.” 

“ Thanks, my dear, thanks! ” 

In one of the pockets of the carriage, Currita had a slip 
of paper upon which was jotted down a great number of 
names and addresses. They made two visits, one upon the 
wife of a magistrate of the Supreme Court, and the other 
upon the wife of a brigadier artillery officer, both most esti- 
mable ladies, from whom having obtained all she could, the 
Olympic Countess began to ridicule them with shameful 
facetiousness, causing the innocent Margarita to be con- 
vulsed with laughter. She then gave the coachman another 
address, which was jotted down in lead pencil in her own 
handwriting, and was the last on the list. 

“ Calle de Rebollo, No. 68.” 

“ Who lives there ? ” asked Margarita. 

“I really don’t know; some French girl who paints. If 
we can only get some little picture out of her.” 

“ Do you know this is great fun?” 

“I should think so indeed! To see the comic faces of 
these poor people when they are besieged with an appeal 
to charity! Their purses; how ridiculous! They surren- 
der their purses, but are none the less ridiculous for so 
doing.” 

“Will you take me with you another afternoon, Coun- 
tess ? ” 

“Certainly my dear, with the greatest pleasure: but 
don’t call me Countess, call me Curra ; after all, I am not so 
old ! ” 

They reached Calle Rebollo, No. 68, and the carriage 
stopped before the house which looked like a bon-bon box, 
more pretentious than artistic, pretty rather than luxurious. 
Currita got out first, very nervous and somewhat pale, not 
from shame or fright, but from anger, anxiety, and indigna- 
tion. At last she was about to enter the wild beast’s den, 
clinging to the mantle of charity; ostensibly in behalf of 


298 


CURRITA 


the wounded soldiers of the North, but in reality to investi- 
gate for herself whether or not the baggage which Demetrio 
had seen in the private car belonged to this drug, be she 
pill or elixir. For this, and this only, had the impostor 
undertaken this charitable round, selecting for her com- 
panion an innocent girl, incapable of sounding the marshy 
ground she was treading. A very smart groom was at the 
door, the one Currita had seen at the Royal theatre, the 
night of the initial performance of Dinorah. She asked him 
if the ladies were at home, and the boy answered in the 
affirmative, showing them into a small drawing-room on the 
ground-floor. Currita thought to herself : — 

“ Doubtless she is away, and I shall meet the old woman 
face to face.” 

A microscopic and hideous little dog struggled out from 
some blankets by the fireside and began to bark, slinking 
back again immediately afterwards, growling and shivering. 
Margarita was afraid of the wretched little animal. 

“ It looks like an ugly little fiend,” she said. 

The room was half dark, the furniture dirty and tumbled, 
and over some of the chairs were thrown articles of clothing. 
Upon an inlaid table of very pretty workmanship, among 
various pieces of bric-a-brac and a photograph album, was a 
large copper chocolate pitcher, old and scorched, the thick 
liquid dripping from its hard wooden spout. The Countess 
pointed out to Margarita with the tip of her parasol the 
strange ornament, saying in a low voice : — 

“ An artist’s caprice.” 

Margarita laughed, scarcely being able to control herself, 
and the Countess, notwithstanding her preoccupation, was 
forced to join her, adding in a half-whisper : — 

“ If she does n’t send us this utensil for the kermis — ” 
She was interrupted by an opening door which resounded 
in the interior, then another opened still nearer, and the 
groom raised the curtain. Currita breathed more freely. 
The fairy lady, the incognita of the camellias, came in with 
the ease and assurance of a cafe chantant diva, who presents 


CURRITA 


299 


herself before the public with a look more of provocation 
than of fear or timidity. The Countess was also perfectly 
self-possessed; with the exquisite distinction of the great 
lady, which she possessed to such a considerable extent, 
and with the tact of the woman of the world, which finds 
redress for all exigencies, exits from all labyrinths, and 
words for all situations, she unfolded to the anonymous 
lady the object of her visit. The latter, much moved and 
in very bad Spanish, replied that she loved Spain very 
much, and that the Carlists, especially Diego Corrientes, 
and Jose Maria were very daring brigands. 

Currita, upon hearing her broken Spanish, addressed her 
in French, and she thanked her for the attention with a 
charming smile. She now began to speak with great fluency 
and elegance, lamenting the ravages of war, praising woman’s 
mission, and dwelling upon the virtue of charity, with the 
fire and enthusiasm of Vincent de Paul in person. Currita 
said to her, smiling : — 

4 4 1 see I have not been mistaken in appealing to your 
sentiments, and hope you will send us some help for our poor 
wounded ones.” 

44 Ah ! yes, I should be delighted ! ” 

44 Anything you like ; some ornament for the kermis.” 

44 1 will send, then, some object of art.” 

Margarita bit her lips to keep from laughing, wondering 
if the chocolate pitcher would be the promised object of art. 
Currita then said to her with a gracious smile : — 

44 And if this object of art should be the work of your own 
genius, it would be much more acceptable.” 

44 Of my own genius ? ” the other repeated, much sur- 
prised. 

44 Yes, of your genius ; yon must know these things can- 
not be hidden. Your countrywoman Mme. de Stael has 
said, 4 Genius shines wheresoever it may be.’” 

44 Ah! ” 

44 The Marquis of Sabadell,” continued Currita, letting the 
words fall slowly, 44 showed me that little bunch of camellias 


300 


CURRITA 


which you sold him some time ago. It is a delicious picture ! 
If you send to the kermis a similar one there will be no 
gift to equal it.” 

The anonymous lady continued smiling, with her eyes cast 
down, as if overwhelmed by the weight of these praises, 
which made the nostrils of her delicate nose dilate with rage. 
Currita wished to give her a parting thrust, and with an air 
of bountiful protection then said to her : — 

“ Have you many scholars? ” 

The other drew herself up suddenly, as if the idea of 
working for her living offended her too much. 

“ The Marquis told me you gave lessons in painting.” 

“ Oh ! no, no, I am no professor, only a poor pupil.” 
And with her soft accent and modest gestures, she concealed 
and controlled the impulse which makes an angry cat try to 
scratch the eyes out of its adversary. Currita was at last 
satisfied, and took her departure, leaving the fairy lady ap- 
parently overwhelmed and humiliated. The carriage once 
in motion, Margarita burst into a laugh, exclaiming in the 
midst of her innocent mirth : — 

“But what was the chocolate pitcher doing in the 
parlor?” 

“Have I not already told you?” replied Currita, joining 
in the girl’s mirth. “ Not a doubt but she will send it to 
the kermis as a unique ornament; you will see I am not 
mistaken.” 

Three days later Margarita was convinced that her illustri- 
ous friend and godmother was completely mistaken. Pedro 
Lopez had said, and thousands of readers had read in the 
Fleur-de-lis, that the Angel of Charity had taken up his abode 
in the palace of the celestial Countess of Albornoz. Be 
this as it may, it was none the less true that, from the four 
corners of the town and Court, beautiful presents were sent 
to the palace for the kermis patronized by the Countess, 
which, arranged with great care in the various drawing-rooms, 
were exhibited to the public. Every night, in one of the 
splendidly lighted rooms, around a large table covered with 


CURRITA 


301 


rich, dark-colored tapestry, were grouped a smiling throng 
of young maids and elegant youths, — as Pedro Lopez called 
them, — who were mixed together in pairs, all closer than 
ordinary circumstances required, and seemingly engrossed 
in the charitable task of making bandages for the unfortunate 
wounded soldiers of the North. 

Currita, wishing to awaken emulation in behalf of the 
poor soldiers, distributed her guests in this manner, and it 
was truly an affecting sight, which brought tears to the eyes, 
to see these tender couples of innocent little maidens of fif- 
teen or twenty years of age, and modest little men of twenty, 
thirty, and even forty years of age, drawing threads from 
the same little piece of linen, sustaining meanwhile in under- 
tones charitable discourses, which encouraged them in the 
holy work, all being of course under the inspection of the 
angelical Countess of Albornoz, who went from side to side 
distributing the couples, giving out materials, and collecting 
upon silver waiters, aided by her Micos, the work already 
finished. She encouraged the indolent ones with a smile, 
inflamed the lukewarm ones with a word, and imparted in all 
directions the fire of charity with which she herself was con- 
sumed. Neither St. Francis’s staff, nor St. Theresa’s 
mantle, nor the girdle of St. Ignatius of Loyola, had ever 
effected cures as miraculous as those which would be wrought 
by these threads, drawn with such pure intentions, upon the 
wounds, sores, and bruises of the poor soldiers. It was a 
sight worth seeing, and Diogenes, who saw it once, told in 
the Veloz Club, late one night, what he thought of the work- 
ing couples, and of what their directress and teacher reminded 
him. 

The most prominent personages in Madrid went there to 
pay their tribute, and even Don Casimiro Pantojas had 
drawn out his threads one night, without more than one 
mishap, born of his shortness of sight ; he mistook for his 
piece of linen the fine batiste handkerchief of the lady by 
his side, which was lying forgotten on the table, and began 
eagerly pulling the threads out, making two very fine balls 


302 


CURRITA 


of lint. The lady screamed, for the handkerchief recalled 
for her many reminiscences, and Don Casimiro, disconsolate 
upon perceiving his error, returned it to her with a fringe 
around it two inches wide. 

Two figures of the first magnitude, the Marquis of Butron 
and Uncle Frasquito, had, however, made themselves con- 
spicuous by their absence. It was thought that an obstinate 
cold held the latter a prisoner between the four walls of his 
house, and it was no secret that the relations of the great 
Robinson with the illustrious lady had become somewhat 
strained since the offer and rejection of the vice-presidency. 
Great surprise was then caused by the appearance, on this 
particular evening, of the hairy diplomat in the charitable 
workshop. He approached the Countess with his most 
smiling face and most expressive gestures, while she, upon 
seeing him, allowed a slight exclamation of infantile delight 
to escape her, and increased the astonishment of all present 
by calling to him in her most coaxing voice : — 

“ Butron! Have you come to help? You know we don’t 
allow any idlers here. Come, pull out your threads with me 
from my piece of linen.” 

And abandoning to its own impulses the philanthropic 
task of enkindling the fervor of her co-workers, she with- 
drew to a corner with the diplomat, carrying in her hand a 
fine square piece of linen and a silver salver upon which to 
collect the lint. Currita as yet had learned nothing of Jacob, 
and upon seeing the wise Mentor come in, imagined he would 
give her news of the fugitive Telemachus. Butron, however, 
was as much in the dark as herself, and the same thought 
and the same interested motives had brought him in search 
of the invulnerable Calypso. Jacob’s sudden departure had 
alarmed him, as he feared some plot in connection with it 
which would be prejudicial to his political interests, and pre- 
tending to know what he wished to know, he had made up 
his mind skilfully to draw from the lady the clew to the 
mystery. 

Currita and Butron looked at each other for a moment in 


CURRITA 


303 


their secluded little corner, as if mutually inviting each 
other to speak, and she, seeing that the worthy diplomat 
gave her no information whatsoever, began most earnestly 
to pull out her threads, and to confide to him her domestic 
troubles. Fernandito was in a very bad way, and his health 
was a source of great concern to her : his failing memory 
had even reached the point of making him forget, some days 
ago, that he had dined, and he kicked up a terrible row, to 
go back for the second time to the table. Doctor Sanchez 
Ocana and Dr. Letamendi had examined him, and had both 
agreed that this was the beginning of an attack of softening 
of the brain, which would gradually lead him to the tomb. 
She was sorely oppressed. If it was only some sudden ill- 
ness, which it should please God would take him in a few 
days ! Of course it was always sad for a woman to be left 
alone, with children to educate and no man by her side. 
But to see him suffer such a long time, gradually and 
hopelessly wasting away ! “ And every day more idiotic, 

Butron ! I assure you I do not exaggerate. I thought it 
was impossible for him to become more so, but he pro- 
gresses daily.” 

The worthy Butron sighed, and baiting with a bit of con- 
solation his fishing-rod, he delicately extended it. 

“You will always have j^our excellent friend Jacob to ad- 
vise you. Has he not written you?” 

She, arranging with much care her little pile of lint, 
answered simply : — 

“Yes, I had a letter yesterday. Of course you have 
heard from him too?” 

“ No, I have n’t had a line, but I am not surprised. Upon 
taking leave of me he said he would not write until he had 
definite news. What address does he give?.” 

The threads became tangled and she was compelled to 
lean towards the light to pull them straight, pausing mean- 
while. 

“Would you believe it, he does n’t give any! He says, 
however, he is writing in the restaurant of the depot, while 


304 


CURRITA 


waiting for the up-going train. He is so considerate, the 
poor fellow! and wished to relieve my mind at all costs. ” 

“ Yes, he is very considerate, but also very heedless. So 
he gives you no address whatsoever?” 

“ No, none.” 

“ Well, you see, he has left none with me either, and it is 
most necessary I should send him certain instructions which 
have been received since his departure. I came to-night for 
that very reason, to ask if you know where he is.” 

“ Well, I must say I do not, Butron, and I am very much 
perplexed about it, for Damian has brought me several let- 
ters which have come for him, and I don’t know where to 
forward them.” 

“There is a screw loose somewhere in his head! We 
shall have to wait until you hear from him again, and I beg 
of you as soon as you receive his address to send it to me 
immediately.” 

u Never fear, Butron, but you also must not fail to do 
likewise by me, if you receive his address first.”* 

“ Oh! ” replied Butron, with much gallantry, “it would be 
impossible for Jacob to commit such a blunder.” 

“Ah! no, no, Butron!” said Currita, with a melancholy 
accent; “don’t imagine that I delude myself in the least. 
I know very well there is no more dangerous rival for a 
woman than gambling, or the hope of a cabinet portfolio.” 

And here they both stopped, thoroughly convinced that 
they had mutually deceived each other ; she, furious, believ- 
ing that Jacob, in league with Butron, had gone away in the 
interests of the party without saying a word to her ; and he, 
suspiciously imagining that Currita and Jacob had freed 
themselves from his patronage by constituting an indepen- 
dent Canton, acting upon their own responsibility in political 
matters. A sudden interruption prevented them from ex- 
ploring further, or with the same facility, their respective 
fields. 

A servant entered carrying a large case of very dark red 
velvet, a magnificent present for the kermis which had just 


CURRITA 


305 


been brought at this unseasonable hour, with the preconceived 
idea, doubtless, that it should be seen and admired by all the 
brilliant assemblage. Gorito Sardona, Mico of honor upon 
this occasion, took the case from the hands of the servant 
and laid it upon the table, calling to Currita at the top of his 
voice. The latter came quickly, followed by the diplomat, 
and a slight cry which seemed to be of admiration, but which 
was in reality of fear and surprise, escaped her at the sight 
of the case. It instantly recalled to her another, exactly 
similar, with the only difference that upon the dark velvet 
lid of the other, beneath a Marquis’s coronet, was a curious 
S of incrusted gold, and upon this lid, in the same place, the 
velvet was only somewhat crushed. She stood, nevertheless, 
for three seconds, silently contemplating the case without 
daring to open it; everybody flocked around her, crowding 
and pressing her up against the table, anxious to see the 
wonderful gift, until there was nothing left for her to do but 
to press the spring and raise the lid. 

A general exclamation of amazement escaped all present, 
drowning the murmur of rage and indignation which swelled 
in Currita’s throat. Upon the white velvet which lined the 
interior, the masterpiece of Henri de Arfe stood out in all its 
magnificence, the antique chiselled silver frame, which she had 
presented to Jacob in this very case, with her own portrait 
as Japanese queen. The latter had disappeared, and in its 
place was another strange photograph, representing a camellia 
of natural size, and leaning upon it as upon a window-ledge, 
was the bust of the fairy woman known to them all, resting 
her left cheek upon both crossed hands, looking straight 
before her with provoking insolence, and sticking out her 
tongue with an expression of consummate impudence at all 
who looked at the picture, no matter from what point of 
view ; underneath, in a very good English handwriting, was 
written : — 

“To Her Excellency the Countess of Albornoz. 

“Mlle. de Sirop.” 


20 


306 


CURRITA 


No one said a word, nor made a comment. In the embar- 
rassing silence which exposes great shames, only the soft 
little voice of the Countess of Albornoz was heard, who said 
somewhat nervously : — 

“Mademoiselle de Sirop? How delicious! She must be 
a cousin of the elixir Henry Mure, which has been recom- 
mended to Fernandito.” 


CHAPTER VIII 

Jacob’s awakening was joyous ; the night before he had won 
more than five thousand dollars playing at the Casino until 
four o’clock in the morning. There is, however, something 
in man which awakens before his reason or his senses, and 
raises its voice and cries aloud; nor is it silenced even in 
those moments of half-awakening, in which one’s ideas float 
like loose threads, before the yet sleeping will has had time 
to tie them, or straighten them, or twist them at its command. 
This something is called remorse, which, with its poignant 
prick placed before Jacob’s eyes, even before the five thou- 
sand dollars, the terrified faces of the wife and children of 
him who had lost them ; of him who, though the father of a 
family, was a professional gambler, marked with that seal of 
misfortune common to those of his class, which, because it is 
misfortune sought after, only excites anger towards them, in- 
stead of compassion. It has been said that in gambling gains 
there is always something similar to robbery, for it can be 
truly said that one takes his neighbor’s goods against the 
will of their owner; and if it be true that one wins this 
money by risking his own, it is also equally true that bands 
of robbers risk their lives in the byways and highways ; and 
a life, although it be only that of a thief, is worth more than 
money. Jacob turned over in his bed, drowning these reflec- 
tions by an effort of his already awakened will, and rang his 
bell, muttering between his teeth : — 


CURRITA 


307 


“ Amar a nuestro projimo 
Nos manda la doctrina 
Y al projimo en la guerra 
Le dan contra una esquina.” 

“ To love our neighbor 
Christ’s doctrine demands ; 

Of our neighbor in war 
We wash our hands.” 

Damian came in, bringing with him as usual the mail and 
the daily papers, which he placed within Jacob’s reach upon 
the night-table. He then opened the blinds, drew the cur- 
tains, and went into the dressing-room to prepare the bath 
and lay out the gentleman’s clothing. It had already struck 
half-past twelve. Jacob was very lazy, and it cost him a 
great effort to tear himself from his bed ; he turned over in 
it several times, stretching himself and moving about from 
side to side, with the lassitude of one who has no cares 
or obligations awaiting him, who finds no other formula 
with which to greet the new day, no other prayer or out- 
burst of sentiment, than a prolonged yawn. He at last 
decided to stretch forth a hand, and took the various letters 
from the table; there were five or six of them, and pres- 
ently his attention was attracted by a large square one 
which bore the Congressional seal, and, as he thought he 
detected by its touch, contained, besides the enclosed letter, 
a small round object. He turned it over, examining the 
envelope on all sides, with that foolish perplexity which, 
upon receiving a letter in an unknown handwriting, moves 
us to conjecture and to guess at that which by only break- 
ing the seal we could know at once. He finally opened it, 
tearing the envelope to pieces, and his doubts were then suc- 
ceeded by surprise and amazement ; he found a blank sheet 
of very thick paper, folded in two, to the upper part of 
which carefully glued was a large seal of green wax about 
the size of half a duro. 1 At first Jacob could not distinguish 


1 Coin equivalent in value to one American dollar. — Tr. 


308 


CURRITA 


well what it was ; the light came in very feebly, penetrating 
through the balcony blinds and the long lace curtains em- 
broidered in one solid piece, which hanging from the lambre- 
quins of yellow damask swept the floor. With great anxiety 
he sat up quickly, leaning out of bed to obtain a better light, 
and could then make out in all its details the seal’s device : 
it was the square and the compass crossed in the form of a 
pentagraph, with the branch of acacia, — the emblem of the 
Masons. 

A horrible suspicion and terrifying idea, of already con- 
vincing aspect, at once flashed through his mind. He sprang 
with a bound out of bed, and ran to the balcony in order to 
examine in a still better light the strange letter and the 
mysterious seal. There was no doubt of it ; if not the same, 
it was exactly similar to one of those he had, at the Grand 
Hotel in Paris, torn from the documents intrusted to his care 
at the lodge in Milan. What, then, did this mean? Was it 
a joke, a warning, or a menace? 

With his eyes wide open, he stood looking out on the 
street, as if he there sought the solution to his doubts and 
answer to his fears. Directly opposite his own was the 
Marquis of Riera’s large house, for many years closed, with 
that air of secrecy and mystery about it which edifices 
abandoned for a long time seem to assume, making one’s 
imagination picture behind its walls memories of crimes and 
ghostly visitants. The day was gloomy ; one of those days 
of drizzling and incessant rain in which one sees only mud- 
puddles in the street, and dark, motionless, and lowering 
clouds in the sky, which seem to lick the towers and cupolas 
like the glutinous spittle of some immense monster. The 
passers-by wended their way hurriedly along the sidewalks 
armed with umbrellas and mackintoshes, wading through the 
mud which splashed the tucked up skirts of the women and 
the turned up trousers and top-boots of the men. A captain 
of lancers, very stout and ruddy, now passed, coming from 
the direction of the Puerta del Sol, and walking very heavily 
with his spurs and spats stained with mud, and his short 


CURRITA 


309 


blue cape, lined with white, wet through and through. It 
occurred to Jacob that this officer was a trooper who must be 
going to the War Department, and he watched him very at- 
tentively. But the officer turned the corner by Riera’s house, 
slipping and sliding, and disappeared dowm Calle Turco. 
Ah ! Calle Turco ! In it, four years before, there had been 
an assassination, another assassination, in the person of a 
famous man, and friend, who had always done him favors, 
the favors of one wolf to another, but favors none the less. 
The hand of the Masons could then be detected in that affair 
also, and he, ah ! he knew well enough what to expect. For 
that reason he had been obliged to flee in all haste, impelled 
by destiny, unhappy destiny, which had carried him off to 
Constantinople, only to fall into another pool of blood and to 
be obliged to undertake again another flight to Italy, and 
France, and Spain later on. 

Jacob felt very cold, an intense and natural chill, for he 
was half dressed, which seemed to penetrate his flesh to the 
marrow of his bones, and even to his very soul, with a gla- 
cial and disagreeable sensation, similar to that of a dagger’s 
blade plunging into one’s breast. He got into bed again, 
muffling himself up in the warm blankets and hiding his 
face in the pillows, that he might think, and reflect, and 
meditate, and not look towards the hollow of the balcony, 
where he seemed to see General Prim, and the Cadi’s wife 
Sarahi, with the strangled eunuch, joining hands and cour- 
tesying like the actors before the curtain when they receive 
an ovation at the end of the play. He, wffio had awakened 
so joyfully, planning the way to hide from his creditors the 
knowledge of his five-thousand-dollar gain! 

Damian discreetly showed his head, asking if his Lord- 
ship intended to get up, because the hot water was getting 
cold. 

“Yes! yes! I am coming,” replied Jacob. And while 
putting on his slippers, and wrapping himself up in a very 
w r armly lined dressing-gown, he reflected that the surest way 
of getting at the bottom of the affair was to ask Uncle Fras- 


310 


CURRITA 


quito what he had done with those three seals which he had 
given him at the Grand H6tel. After this he became more 
calm, almost serene. Without doubt the whole thing would 
turn out to be a stupid joke. True, he had experienced in 
this arduous business what all impetuous characters experi- 
ence ; once the first step is taken, they afterwards fall into 
the utmost apathy, abandoning the plans made in such haste 
and undertaken with so much warmth. And it was not prob- 
able either that after the lapse of a year and a half of abso- 
lute silence and complete forgetfulness, the Masons would 
reclaim the papers by initiating their petition with a ridiculous 
little joke. Very like them indeed, to send him a little seal ! 
And moreover, — deuce take it ! — they had intrusted to him 
certain papers for King Amadeo, and King Amadeo had 
flown. Was it to be expected that he should run hither and 
thither in search of the deposed king? And what right 
also had the Spanish Masons to ask explanations of him, 
when he belonged to the Italian sects? For the letter was 
certainly from Madrid, inasmuch as the Congressional seal 
stamped it. All utter nonsense ! Away with fears ! He 
was in the right, confound it! for God helps those who help 
themselves ! and he who is first come is first served. 

Damian prepared to shave him as usual, and upon feeling 
the cold steel upon his throat, he could not restrain a shudder 
of fright. A slight knock or sudden movement, and the 
blood would flow, death would come, and life be ended then 
and there, without help or hindrance, irremediably gliding 
from agony into the frightful shadow of that which is called 
eternity, the news of the crime of Calle Alcala flying through 
Madrid, as four years before had flown the news of the un- 
punished and mysterious crime of Calle Turco. And this 
slight knock or sudden movement might be given by Damian's 
hand, bribed by some of the Masons’ gold. For how did he 
know who Damian was ? A rascal probably, and rogue like 
all the rest ; for, judging others by himself, there could be 
only two classes of men : those who are hung, and those 
who deserve to be. 


CURRITA 


311 


He laughed finally at his wild fancies, and now entirely 
dressed, asked for his hat and gloves and an umbrella. 

u Will your Lordship breakfast at home?” 

“ No.” 

“ The coachman is awaiting orders.” 

“ Let him go, and come back at four o’clock.” And he 
went towards the door, but turned back the next moment. 
What foolishness ! Perhaps in some one of those other 
letters, which he had forgotten in his trepidation, he might 
find some clue or explanation of the stupid joke. He opened 
first one and then another, and one by one flung them furi- 
ously aside upon the large white bear-skin at his bedside. 
Nothing ! absolutely nothing, but an invitation to a ball, a 
letter from Angelito Castropardo asking him to go with him 
that evening to a supper with the opera bouffe actresses of 
the Arderius theatre, and the dissertation of an exasperated 
creditor who threatened him with seizure. 

The rain, drizzling slowly and steadily, continued falling, 
penetrating and chilling to the bone, as a sad and monoto- 
nous thought which cannot be dispelled chills and freezes 
one to the very heart. At Cuatro Calles, opposite the 
ruins, centuries old, of Calle Seville, now covered like those 
of Italica with the yellow jaramago, 1 Jacob took a cab, in 
order to avoid the crowd of people, invariable at this point, 
who came and went, forming upon the sidewalks interminable 
strings of men, women, and children, all hidden on this par- 
ticular day beneath their umbrellas, which, going and coming 
and crossing each other, looked like a long procession or 
fantastic contradanza of phenomenal mushrooms. Ten 
minutes later he alighted at Uncle Frasquito’s door. 

Combed, dyed, and shining from pure cleanliness, the 
latter was breakfasting in his elegant dining-room, heated 
by a splendid fire which was blazing away in a magnificent 
fireplace of black marble, piled high with wood. With the 
affectionate eagerness with which all those anxious to gossip 


1 Sort of vine. — Tr. 


312 


CURRITA 


receive any one who can serve as an audience, the old man 
received Jacob, ordering another cover to be laid at once. 
He was dying to give vent to his feelings, for the storm of 
annoyance through which he had passed the day before had 
not as yet subsided within him. Diogenes and his little 
jokes were going entirely too far, and if there were author- 
ities in Madrid, or a government in Spain, they would pun- 
ish him with at least imprisonment for life. For the outrage 
of the day before he deserved in the name of Justice to have 
his right hand cut off. Making fun in that way of all the 
ladies in Madrid, assembled together for a pious object! 
And exposing to ridicule three, or rather two, estimable 
persons, — for Pulido was & parvenu and a cad, who well de- 
served all he got. It seemed incredible that Pepe Butron, a 
man of so much sense, should have made such a faux pas , 
and, doubtless, it was Pulido who gave him the bad advice. 
Imagine proposing Maria Villasis for President ! Why, even 
an imbecile would never have conceived such an idea ! 

And of course the result was what it naturally would have 
been, that the dissembling hypocrite had ruined everything 
and with most insufferable daring and insolence ; alluding, of 
course, to poor Curra when she said, with a fiendish little 
laugh, that her modesty prevented her from being President 
when there was such a worthy Vice-President. And poor 
Curra was silent, prudently silent, but one could easily tell 
that she profoundly resented it. 

Here he paused, swallowed a big mouthful, prepared an- 
other very large one, and said meanwhile : — 

“But you are not eating, Jacob. You have taken nothing 
but the oysters.” 

“ I am not hungry.” 

“Nor I either . 1 Of course, the best thing that could 
happen, has happened ; for if my niece Villasis had been 
President, the works of the association would have been re- 
duced to novenas and triduums and paltry alms collected by 

1 From now on, the double rr * s peculiar to Uncle Frasquito’s mode 
of speech will be suppressed, for the convenience of the reader. — Tr. 


CUEKITA 


313 


the members at the church doors. And not even this indeed ; 
for I myself, my very self, heard her say ” — and Uncle 
Frasquito, with an imposing gesture, pinched one of his own 
ears — “that it was a scandalous profanation to station 
decoys of pretty girls at the church doors. Just imagine 
what a view to take of things ! But after all, the poor 
soldiers will not be left unaided, and what they may be de- 
prived of by the perfect widow on one hand, they will obtain 
through the wicked Samaritan on the other. For Curra, 
with that big heart of hers, has gone into the thing with her 
whole soul ; and as for the kermis, it will be a great financial 
success. Last night you were not there, and, of course, do 
not know what took place, but they are now discussing 
where to have it; some say in Martinez’s silver shop, and 
others say the Royal Theatre. What do you think? ” 

Jacob, weary of all this vapid and effeminate gossip was 
on the point of saying he thought the best place would be in 
the end of a horn; Uncle Frasquito, seeing he did not reply, 
hastened to add: — 

“I think the Royal Theatre. The Paris kermis for the 
benefit of the inundated inhabitants of Szegedin took place 
at the Opera House and was a brilliant success. But, 
frankly speaking, I am afraid of Diogenes ; he will certainly 
be there, and I am afraid of him. For what is one to do, 
if not even the resource of defying him is left? ” 

“ Why not?” replied Jacob, laughing in spite of himself. 
“ Defy him yourself and chop his ears off.” 

“ Ah ! indeed ! There would be nothing left of me if I 
did ! ” exclaimed Uncle Frasquito, full of belligerent ardor. 
“ It would be impossible! Do you know what happened to 
Paco la Granda, another animal like himself? Well, Diog- 
enes got up a plot against him, and Paco sent him his sec- 
onds. Diogenes said all right, he would fight; but as the 
choice of weapons fell to his lot, he decided that the duel 
should be with cannon-shots. Just imagine it ! Paco then 
sent to say that wherever he met him he would knock him 
down. Diogenes answered for him to come near him if he 


314 


CURRITA 


dared. And he did dare, but for what, Jacob, for what? 
So that the beast Diogenes, as he is so enormous, might 
give him a blow which broke two of his ribs. Yes, two ribs ! 
and don’t imagine that I exaggerate*” 

And Uncle Frasquito, brimming over with indignation, 
rubbed with the back of his hand the place where, natural 
or artificial, his own ribs ought to be. Jacob said nothing, 
and the old man, beginning to notice his pre-occupation, 
politely made him a sign that breakfast was over and that 
he had already detained him too long. 

“ 1 believe, after all, the kermis will take place at the 
Opera House,” he said. “ I am going now to Curra’s house 
so we can decide. How is it that you are not breakfasting 
there to-day ? ” 

“ Because I was obliged to see you.” 

“Ah!” exclaimed the old man. And he opened his 
mouth to its full extent, very much startled, for from that 
fatal night at the Grand Hotel, when Jacob had discovered 
the secret of his wig and teeth, he looked upon him and 
feared him with that nervous fear which the person always 
inspires who, by only loosening his tongue a bit, can ruin 
our reputation or our fortune. Uncle Frasquito did not de- 
sire his death ; but he would have seen him descend into the 
tomb with pleasure, provided he carried the secret with him. 
Jacob asked: — 

“ Do you remember the night your nightcap caught fire in 
the Grand Hotel?” 

Uncle Frasquito, now thoroughly alarmed, thought to him- 
self, “ Murder will out,” and changing color, nervous and 
full of anxiety, he glanced at the servants, saying in a low 
voice : — 

“Psch! Be careful, man! We will have our coffee in 
the boudoir, and there no one will disturb us.” 

For Uncle Frasquito also had his boudoir, a veritable bou- 
doir, such as any lady of fashion might have, filled with all 
those knick-knacks which the French call bibelots , and which 
have taken the place, in modern palaces, of antique works of 


CURRITA 


315 


art. The latter, however, were not wanting, the most con- 
spicuous among them being the portrait of a gentleman, type 
of arrogant and manly beauty, painted by Van Dyck in Eng- 
land, at the same time as his famous portrait of Charles I. ; an 
admirable likeness, in which is reflected, together with the 
monarch’s pride, a species of foreboding of his tragic end. 
The former personage was the fifth Duke of Aldama, ambas- 
sador to London from the Court of Philip IV. Uncle Fras- 
quito was the third son of the twentieth duke of the same 
name. At the foot of the portrait was a dagger, and a 
sword in its scabbard of exquisite workmanship and great 
value, which had belonged to the nobleman. Directly oppo- 
site, and placed in an excellent light, was an embroidery 
frame of polished mahogany, upon which Uncle Frasquito, 
grandson in the nineteenth century to his sire of the seven- 
teenth century, was embroidering in tapestry an elaborate 
pair of slippers. 

The coffee was served. Jacob had thrown himself indo- 
lently into an easy chair, his right leg flung over the arm of 
it, and had begun to smoke the' excellent cigar which Uncle 
Frasquito had given him. The latter mysteriously produced 
a dainty gold snuff-box set with diamonds, with Queen Marie 
Louise’s portrait upon the lid, and took a pinch of snuff, 
making wicked grimaces meanwhile. 

“It is my only vice,” he said; “it is a secret, no one 
knows it. 4 Peclie cache est tout a fait pardonne.’ ” And 
he sneezed three times, hoping by the faces and grimaces he 
was making to distract from Jacob’s mind the accursed idea 
of the singed cap ; but the latter, as soon as the servants had 
left the room after serving the customary Jamaica rum, again 
asked : — 

“ Do you remember that night?” 

Uncle Frasquito replied with a timid and shame-faced 
“Yes,” as if the question recalled some heinous crime. 

Jacob continued : “Do you also remember some wax seals, 
two green ones, and a red one, which I gave you that same 
night?” 


816 


CURRITA 


“ Oh, yes!” replied Uncle Frasquito, much relieved. 

“ What have you done with them? ” 

“They are here in my album. Do you wish to see them? ,, 

“Yes.” 

Uncle Frasquito’s fears now dispelled, he turned quickly 
and drew towards Jacob a beautiful easel upon which rested 
a large folio like a choir- book, whose handsome binding was 
a most finished work of art, a mosaic done upon shagreen 
leather, representing strange drawings in very bright colors. 
The whole formed a combination worthy of competing with 
any of the elaborate antique bindings to be found in the 
Vatican Library. The book was secured by a large clasp 
of open-work steel, representing the coat of arms of the 
Aldama family, surmounted by the ducal crown of the head 
of the house. 

“There is no other collection equal to it in Europe. It 
stands first,” said Uncle Frasquito, opening the volume with 
the enthusiasm of an amateur with a new fad. And he 
began to look through the index, the book being divided into 
various parts ; there were royal, national, individual, and 
miscellaneous seals. Uncle Frasquito looked in the miscel- 
laneous list and finally came across “ Masonic Seals, — Mar- 
quis of Sabadell, — page 117;” for the collector was civil 
enough always to write under each donation the name of 
the donor. 

Page 117 was at last found. Uncle Frasquito looked at 
Jacob stupefied, and Jacob, horribly pale, looked at Uncle 
Frasquito. The numerous little spaces on the page were 
filled with seals, with the exception of two, which were blank. 
In both were written “Masonic” above, and “Marquis of 
Sabadell ” below. The seals had disappeared, and one could 
discern upon the fine vellum the traces of the gum with which 
they had been secured. Jacob, with a gesture of fearful 
anxiety and in a choking voice, said : — 

“The other, the red one, where is it?” 

Uncle Frasquito, frightened upon seeing Jacob’s emotion, 
did not dare open his lips, fearful lest some great catastrophe 


CURRITA 317 

was pending, and began to look hurriedly among the royal 
seals, murmuring confusedly : — 

“It was Victor Emmanuel’s, I remember well. It must 
be among the sovereigns of Italy. I put it between a Duke 
of Parma and a Ferdinand of Naples, because ‘ Italian Unity ’ 
does not exist for me.” 

After much fumbling about, he turned at last to page 98, 
which was full of royal seals, and between one of the last 
reigning dukes of Parma and another of Ferdinand of Naples 
was another blank space. Above it was written, ‘ ‘ King of 
Sardinia,” and below, “Marquis of Sabadell.” 

Jacob struck a vigorous blow with his fist on the arm of 
his chair, saying in a hollow voice : — 

“You have ruined me ! ” 

“Great heavens! Jacob, my boy! For God’s sake tell 
me what has happened!” exclaimed Uncle Frasquito, half 
dead with fright. 

“ You have ruined me ! ruined me ! ” reiterated Jacob. 

And under the influence of the fear and confusion which 
possessed him, he confided with his usual want of tact to the 
foolish old man, if not the guiltiest, at least the most dan- 
gerous part of his Masonic adventure. Uncle Frasquito, 
terror-stricken, and imagining he saw Masonic poniards 
darting up through the soft carpet, began to pace about 
excitedly, stumbling around in all directions like a rabbit 
blinded by the sunlight. 

“Alas! alas! What perverse fate! Of course, Jacob, 
you know very well I did not wish to take the seals. Don’t 
you remember? You offered them to me, but I did not want 
to accept them. To oblige, and to please you, I did so, but 
I repent. I do not need them, nor do I wish to have any- 
thing to do with the gentlemen to whom they belong. Do 
you understand? You cannot count upon me, for I will tell 
everything and wash my hands of the affair.” 

Suddenly he stopped, and struck himself forcibly on the 
forehead, as one who suddenly puts one and two together ; 
his terror increased, and he was obliged to sit down. 


318 


CURRITA 


“Now I understand! Now I can fully explain, and 
see it all. G-reat heavens, what have I done to deserve 
this ? ” 

“What do you mean?” said Jacob, anxiously. The lat- 
ter’s emotion seemed to have taken possession of Uncle Fras- 
quito, and the poor old man, knowing his own weakness, 
decided to seek support in his stronger companion. He 
grasped Jacob by the arm, and led him stealthily to his bed- 
room, a smiling nest, tapestried in light-blue Persian silk ; 
the floor was strewn with white rugs, while his bed of rose- 
wood, very low and aerial, was a vague combination of Hol- 
land laces and delicate blue silk, like a crested wave of the 
sea. There was also an exquisite chiffonier of rosewood, 
with silver fastenings, where Uncle Frasquito kept his im- 
portant papers. He pulled open a little drawer and took out 
a package of letters. 

All these he had received within the last three months ! 
It was enough, indeed, to drive even the coolest person mad. 
At first they annoyed him, then made him angry, and now, 
at this moment, actually terrified him, and made his hair 
stand on end! 

1 1 One day I remember well ; it was the ninth of December. 
I received by mail a letter from St. Petersburg.” And Uncle 
Frasquito drew out from the package the top letter, whose 
stamp really bore the likeness of Czar Alexander II. 

“ I opened it wonderingly and found this.” While speak- 
ing, he spread before Jacob’s astonished eyes a blank sheet 
of paper, in the centre of which was written the single word, 
“Idiot ! ” 

An irresistible sense of the ridiculous overcame all Jacob’s 
terrors, and he laughed heartily. But Uncle Frasquito very 
disconsolately said to him : — 

“You laugh? Well, just wait. All night long I lay 
thinking, 4 Idiot in St. Petersburg? ’ and I racked my brains, 
and passed a sleepless night, without being able to solve the 
enigma. The next morning another letter came. From 
where do you think? From Chinchon, Jacob, Chinchon! I 


CURKITA 


319 


opened it and found the same word, Idiot! The following 
day another letter from Fuente Ovejuna, in the province of 
Cordova, with the same refrain. In fact, my boy, every day 
since then, without fail, letters have come in different hand- 
writings and from different places, even the most remote 
corners of the globe, France, England, Alcarcon, Germany, 
Chinchilla, and Calcutta, — understand, Calcutta, — Constan- 
tinople, and even from Terrones, a little village with only 
three houses, in the province of Salamanca, and all bearing 
the same device, Idiot! 

“ One day, the twentieth of January, I remember it per- 
fectly! I was more tranquil. The mail came, but without 
the letter. That same afternoon I went to the night- table 
for something, and there, inside the drawer, I found a letter 
which contained the word, Idiot! Now tell me if all this is 
not enough to set one crazy, and if it does not reveal a ter- 
rible mystery, which your letter with the seal is beginning to 
explain.” 

It was beginning to dawn upon J acob also that no one in 
Madrid or in the whole world, unless it were Diogenes, would 
be capable of playing on this poor fool a joke of such dura- 
tion, which must necessitate unlimited patience, and above 
all a most extensive acquaintanceship with difficult and com- 
plicated means of communication. With undisguised wonder, 
he asked : — 

“ Have you really received one every day? ” 

“Not one is missing! Sometimes, especially if the letter 
had come from a great distance, two or three days would 
elapse before I received it, but it always turned up in the end 
with the others. Yes, I assure you not one is missing! Here 
they are, count them, ,, he added, with an accent of deep dis- 
may, spreading them all out upon the table. “ You will find 
there is a letter for every day, from the ninth of December 
to the fifteenth of March, which is to-day ; there are ninety- 
seven days in all, February having only twenty-eight, which 
makes ninety-seven Idiots! This came to day.” And he 
drew out of his pocket a letter from Chiclana, in the province 


320 


CURRITA 


of Cadiz, which also contained the prophetic word and mys- 
terious warning! 

Jacob’s situation was not one conducive to much merry- 
making, and he very soon checked the fit of hilarity which 
had been elicited by this most persistent joke, which no other 
than Diogenes could have perpetrated. He also repented of 
having confided part of his secret to Uncle Frasquito, upon 
hearing the old man’s cowardly threats, and resolved to insure 
his silence by making him believe that he himself was also 
in imminent danger. He examined the letters attentively, 
scarcely being able to restrain, in spite of his troubles, an- 
other outburst of laughter, and said at last with an air of 
profound conviction : — 

“Not a doubt but this is the work of the Masons! They 
sentence me for what I did, and call you an idiot for shield- 
ing me.” 

“But it is not true!” cried Uncle Frasquito, very much 
excited. “ I did not shield you, and only took the seals 
because you gave them to me.” 

“ Which means,” pursued Jacob, without heeding him, 
“that if they apprehend me, they will give you a thrashing 
as soon as they lay hands upon you.” 

Uncle Frasquito’s tongue clove to the roof of his mouth, 
and he exclaimed, half whimpering : — 

“ I shall inform the governor of Madrid ! and shall speak 
to Paco Serrano ! ” 

“Which would be to walk of your own accord into the 
lion’s den, for they are both birds of a feather. See here, 
Uncle Frasquito, there is only one way out of this. In the 
first place, hold your tongue, and do not even breathe to 
your shadow what is going on.” 

“ You can depend upon me for that.” 

“Very well. In the second place, be generous with your 
pocket-book, for, my dear friend, with a full purse all is pos- 
sible, and Masons or no Masons, money can do wonders.” 

Uncle Frasquito made a gesture of resignation, like a pa- 
tient about to have a tooth drawn, and Jacob continued :• 


CURRITA 


321 


“ In the third place, act with great caution in following up 
the clew. In this way we will get on. Who do you suspect 
can have stolen the seals ? ” 

Uncle Frasquito began to make superhuman efforts to col- 
lect his thoughts. He was positive that only a fortnight 
before all three seals had been there ; for he had gone through 
the album thoroughly, when he was showing it to the Baron 
of Buenos Ayres, another amateur like himself, and had then 
noticed no vacant spaces whatsoever. A few days after- 
wards some man recommended by his shirt-maker came to 
see him, who was extremely anxious to sell him three very 
curious stamps. He then once more glanced through the 
album, and since then had not touched it.” 

“ Who was this person?” 

“ I have no idea. Some poor hungry- looking devil, who 
might be most anything.” 

“ Here at last is a clew to the mystery ! ” exclaimed 
Jacob, with much interest. “ Did you leave him alone? Did 
he touch the album ? ” 

“No, of course not. Ah! yes, yes, Jacob! Now I re- 
member. Vicentito Astorga called, and I received him in 
the drawing-room, so that he might not see such a shabby- 
looking fellow, and he was left alone for more than ten 
minutes, at the very least.” 

“ Well, it is evident we are now on the right track ! Let 
us go at once to the shirt-maker’s.” 

Uncle Frasquito’s victoria was already at the door, and 
they both drove to the shirt-maker’s, an honest merchant 
who lived in Calle de Carretas. He also was ignorant 
of the incognito’s identity, and only knew he was an Italian 
commission merchant, the friend of a Frenchman who had 
business relations in the perfumery branch of their house. 
Upon hearing the nationality of the unknown one, Jacob’s 
anxiety reached its height, for it seemed to him quite evi- 
dent that the Spanish and Italian lodges were cognizant 
of the affair. He accordingly informed Uncle Frasquito 
that it was useless to investigate further, and both returned 

21 


322 


CURRITA 


silent and thoughtful to the latter’s house. On the way, 
Jacob’s dormant activity was awakened at the thought of 
danger, and in that brief drive he mapped out a daring 
plan, the only one to his mind which could atone for past 
follies, and stay the consequences of his imprudent apathy. 
That same night, without taking leave of any one, or giving 
to any one a reason for his departure, that they might not 
suspect the object of his journey, he would set out for Italy 
and have a business interview in Caprera with Garibaldi, 
who had formerly initiated him in the Milan lodges, and 
before him would try to vindicate the sequestration of those 
documents by inventing some artful story, or lie, anything 
at all, which would once for all put him out of this false 
and painful position. Money he did not lack, counting 
the five thousand dollars won the night before ; and Uncle 
Frasquito’s mint was also at his disposal. He accordingly 
explained part of his plan to the afflicted old man, upon 
reaching the latter’s house, and concluded by saying that, 
inasmuch as they ran a common risk, it was only just that 
both should defray the expenses, and that Uncle Frasquito 
must hand over without loss of time two thousand dollars 
in bank notes ; the journey would require two weeks, and 
upon his return they would square up accounts and share 
like brothers the expenses which the undertaking might 
demand. 

Uncle Frasquito was very much annoyed, reflecting that 
the three stamps had cost him dearly ; but won over at last 
by Jacob’s reasonings, warnings, and threats, he produced 
the extorted money, and took leave of his companion with 
a wry face. Upon finding himself alone, his fears re- 
doubled; he felt ill and went to bed, giving strict orders 
for no one to be admitted. The following morning his mail 
contained a letter from Segura, a little village celebrated for 
its cheeses, hidden away in the most rugged nook of the 
Guipuzcoa mountains; in it was written, Idiot! 

His fever rose two degrees, and he sent for the parish 
priest. He wished to be shriven. 


CURRITA 


323 


CHAPTER IX 

The toll-keeper who collects the tax at the summit of 
the mountain de los Meagas, confidentially informed Jose 
Ignacio Bernaechea, that never had a more elegant coach, 
handsomer horses, or more reckless people, crossed from 
St. Sebastian to Zumarraga. Even yet, afar off, at the 
foot of the mountain could be heard the strident notes of 
the coach-horn, which resounded among these high moun- 
tains in a strange and profane manner, like a burst of 
loud laughter in a temple, a joke during a prayer, or a 
bacchanalian hymn between the solemn and prolonged notes 
of a Gregorian chant. 

For this wild and solemn scenery, with its deep valleys 
fertilized by labor and sanctified by churches, watered by 
little rivulets and dotted with tiny villages sunk in a sea of 
verdure, upon which the lights and shadows came and went, 
always green, always beautiful and sublimely melancholy, as 
is the mysterious idea of the Maitagarris in the imagination 
of the Vasco peasant, has something of the silent majesty 
of a temple, and the serene sadness of an autumn landscape 
which seems to smile and weep at the same time. It is like 
the soft melancholy which inundates the soul at eventide, 
when the church bells ring out the Angelus, and day fades 
away, whispering to man that word a thousand times 
repeated with never a thought of its infinite meaning, 
Adios ! 1 

The descent was dangerous, owing to the steepness of the 
declivity and the suddenness of the turnings, and the six 
horses of the turnout pressed hard on their bits, bending 
their graceful heads to their chests, and vigorously inflating 
their powerful flanks, the sweat oozing from beneath their 
glittering harness like white foam. The axle grated inces- 

1 God be with you ; or, good-bye. — Tk. 


324 


CURRITA 


santly, from the motion of the pole rising and falling, and 
Leopoldina Pastor, seated upon the highest seat of the 
elegant tally-ho coach, screamed like one possessed, shriek- 
ing out that those “ good-for-nothing ” horses would 
certainly, pitch them headlong down the mountain-side. 
Seated by her side was Uncle Frasquito, with a very fine 
pocket-handkerchief dangling from his straw hat to protect 
his complexion from the sun. He looked with a frightened 
expression at the height of the precipice, and at every 
lurch of the coach clung to the sides of the seat, exclaim- 
ing wildly : — 

“ Curra, for Heaven’s sake, take care ! take care ! ” 

Upon one of the back seats, Maria Valdivieso, Paco 
Velez, and Gorito Sardona were roaring with laughter, dis- 
puting among themselves the honor of blowing upon the 
sonorous coach-horn a diver’s blast, to warn the peaceful 
villagers and dignified oxen, the modest wayside basket- 
vendors and the drivers of carts laden with ferns, that they 
must clear the way, withdraw to one side, or scatter pell- 
mell in any direction, because the Countess of Albornoz’s 
tally-ho with six horses required unobstructed the whole 
of the Guipuzcoa highway. Upon the last of the rear seats, 
extended like an inert mass, was a man enveloped in a 
lady’s water-proof cloak, which the rays of the sun scorched 
and blistered. With every movement of the coach, he 
tottered in great danger of falling, and coughed with that 
kind of asthmatic sound peculiar to inebriated old men 
when sleeping off the effects of a debauch. 

Upon the central seats, among sundry hampers, boxes, 
and the various parts of a small camp-tent, were Kate, the 
Countess of Albornoz’s English maid, Fritz, her Prussian 
groom, and Tom Sickles, her famous coachman, who, with- 
out losing his English dignity, looked uneasily from time 
to time at the not altogether skilful way in which his illus- 
trious mistress’s feeble little hand was managing the fiery 
team. For the Countess of Albornoz in person had herself 
driven the powerful brutes from Biarritz, whence the convoy 


CURRITA 


325 


had started the evening before, all of them preferring the 
hardships of this excursion by the highway to the comfort- 
able journey by rail, because of one of those caprices 
or eccentricities which the laws of fashion dictate, and 
which constitute the rules of good form, based the major- 
ity of times upon the following philosophic and profound 
reasoning : — 

“ Cuando pitos, flautos ; 

Cuando flautos, pitos.” 

Seated by her side on the box-seat was the Marquis of 
Sabadell, most affable and affectionate, screening the lady 
from the sun with a large parasol of heavy, red taffeta silk, 
and constantly on the lookout to rectify with his vigorous 
hand whatever careless move the aristocratic coachwoman 
might make in her arduous task of guiding the team. Only 
too soon an occasion presented itself. At a sudden turning 
the sunshade caught in the overhanging branches of an oak- 
tree, and being wrenched violently away, fell upon the head 
of one of the horses. The animal took fright, shying 
abruptly, causing the coach to swerve. It tottered a mo- 
ment, then remained motionless, the next instant toppling 
over, and gradually sinking. A cry of terror escaped all, 
aud an old dame who was passing by, leading a little donkey, 
extended her withered arms and cried out with the energy 
which faith gives in moments of anguish : — 

‘ 4 Aita San Ignacio . . . Salvaizuzu ! ” 1 
The danger was imminent ; one of the back wheels was 
off the road, only sustained over the precipice by the trank 
of a fallen oak-tree, whose roots, cracking and gradually 
yielding, tore up large clods of earth at every instant. A 
moment lost, or a single movement of any of the frightened 
animals, and coach, horses, and travellers would have rolled 
down the high embankment, crushing themselves into atoms. 

Jacob did not lose his presence of mind, nor Tom Sickles 
either; the former seized the reins without moving them in 
the slightest, and the other sprang out of the coach, balanc- 

1 Father St. Ignatius . . . Save them ! — Tr. 


326 


CURRITA 


ing himself to the wheel opposite the sunken one, pulling it 
with all his might towards the centre of the road. The old 
dame ran to his assistance, also pulling with her bony arms, 
which seemed to have sinews as powerful as two cables. 
Fritz jumped out after Tom, holding by the bridle the 
frightened horse which was the near one of the wheel pair. 
Terror had struck all dumb and motionless, no one daring 
to stir for fear of hastening the catastrophe. The man in 
the waterproof cloak slept on unconsciously. 

At a signal from Tom Sickles, Jacob lashed the horses 
furiously; Fritz shouting excited them, and the coach, pulled 
out at last, straining and creaking, tottering a moment 
towards the precipice, and finally righting itself upon the 
high-road, gave a most violent jerk, which sent the sleeping 
man flying from the top of his seat into the middle of the 
road, where he landed as inert and heavy as a stone. The 
coach disappeared amidst a thick cloud of dust down the 
mountain-side, the horses running at full speed until opposite 
Oiquina, where Jacob at last succeeded in stopping the 
dusty, sweating, and palpitating animals beneath the shadow 
of some fig trees. It was none too soon ; the oak tree, com- 
pletely uprooted, fell lengthwise down the steep hill-slope, 
and hung suspended over the precipice only by some strag- 
gling roots. Tom Sickles, unmindful of the man stretched 
upon the ground, watched the flying coach, clenching his 
fists, and flinging tremendous oaths in English, not at the 
horses, but at his illustrious mistress. 

Meanwhile Fritz and the old woman hastened to the 
assistance of the fallen man, at the moment in which the 
latter, struggling out of the cloak which enveloped him, 
and sitting up on the ground, revealed the pimply and 
amazed face of Diogenes, which still bore the traces of the 
tremendous debauch in which he had indulged the evening 
before. He looked about him with an air of perplexity, 
without being able to explain to himself, how, having fallen 
asleep on top of a coach, he had awakened to find himself 
sitting upon the ground in the middle of the road. His ach- 


CURRITA 


327 


mg bones finally revealed to him the cause, and grasping 
Fritz by the arm, he tried to raise himself, murmuring : — 

“ Polaina 1 Some one must have given me a thrashing.” 

He tried to walk, however, without experiencing any seri- 
ous difficulty, his hat covered with dust in his hand, and the 
cloak, which was dangling from his left shoulder, dragging 
behind him. Those on the coach had recovered the power 
of speech upon seeing themselves out of danger, and were 
all talking at the same time, commenting upon the event, 
none of them thinking of thanking God for having snatched 
them from the jaws of death by a veritable miracle. Only 
Kate, the English maid, still shrinking into a corner, as 
white as a sheet, with her hands crossed, eyes closed and 
head bowed, seemed to be praying under her breath. It 
was now that they missed Diogenes, and at last saw him 
coming in the distance, followed by Tom Sickles and the 
Prussian groom, who was carrying the red sunshade, inno- 
cent cause of the mishap. 

Prevailing good-humor succeeded in dissipating their 
fright, and Diogenes was received with shouts of laughter 
by all except Leopoldina Pastor, who, drowning the laughter 
with her powerful contralto voice, screamed out furiously : — 

“Well, look at the good-for-nothing! how he is drag- 
ging my mackintosh. Diogenes ! Pick up that cloak ! 
Don’t you see you are making a mess of it?” 

Diogenes heard her only too well, but tying the cloak 
around his body with the grace of a toreador girding his 
cape in order to make with the quadrille the presidential 
salute, he tried to make a pirouette; a slight attack of 
vertigo stopped him, however. Passing by the Cestona 
Spring, another slight fainting-spell attacked him, and Leo- 
poldina Pastor, who always united some bit of absurdity to 
the impulses of her really good and compassionate heart, 
tried to induce him to drink two little glasses of these famous 
medicinal waters. Diogenes answered her with one of his 
outrageous sallies, which created a general chorus of laugh- 
ter; he stopped nevertheless at the spring, but only to 


328 


CURRITA 


drink an enormous mug of ginger, which he took as usual, 
after first dropping into the bottom of the glass two lumps 
of sugar. The alcohol revived him, and from Cestona to 
Azpeytia he gossiped incessantly, commenting upon his 
tremendous fall, to the great amusement of everybody. 

“ Polaina ! Frasquito ! suppose it had been you. Eh! 
comrade ? You would have been broken into thirty-two pieces, 
just the same as a prize-fighter. 

“ Jump like that at sixty-five years of age ! Polaina ! — ” 
It made him think of another jump, yet more remarkable, 
which a certain friend of his had once made from a Mon- 
day’s breakfast to a Thursday’s dinner, without even stump- 
ing his toe. 

They crossed the streets of Azpeytia at full trot, regard- 
less of the Alcalde’s proclamations or the fines imposed, 
running the risk at every step of trampling under foot the 
poor manufacturers of hempen sandals working upon the 
thresholds of the shops, or the children playing about in all 
directions, and finally turned into that branch section of the 
highway which directly leads to Loyola. In the background, 
shadowed by the high peak of the Izarraiz, was the majestic 
pile of the Royal College and Sanctuary, a precious jewel, 
designed by Fontana and constructed by a queen in order to 
enclose the house of a saint. In the centre of the grounds, 
erected upon a pedestal and protected by an iron grating 
was the statue of St. Ignatius Loyola, son and patron of 
Guipuzcoa, his hand raised, as if about to bless this country 
in which his cradle was rocked, and over which the beneficent 
shadow of his gigantic figure seemed yet to be hovering. 

Forming a right angle with the Royal College of Loyola is 
another edifice, which was constructed about the same time, 
called La Hospederia . 1 Here travellers usually stop who 
come to visit the Sanctuary, and here Currita proposed to 
break the journey by stopping to dine, and to rest a couple 
of hours, continuing her journey afterwards as far as Zumar- 


1 Monastery Inn. — Tr. 


CURRITA 329 

raga, where they would take the express train for Madrid, 
which passed at half-past five. 

The day was magnificent, although somewhat warm, as is 
generally the case in G-uipuzcoa in the latter part of Septem- 
ber ; and the Countess of Albornoz ordered the table to be 
set beneath the spacious portico, formed by the eight arches 
which constitute the entrance to La Hospederia. Stretched 
out in front of them were the green and smiling meadows 
full of joyful light, with a little bubbling and playful fountain, 
which murmured through four ducts. On the left arose the 
majestic college structure, the proud facade of its church 
extending like a soldier of Christ, its strong arm holding a 
crucifix, while its superb cupola was elevated like a brow to 
heaven, seeking fortitude, inspiration, and light. To the 
right lay the valley of Azpeytia, watered by the Urola, which, 
also joyful and smiling, joined the village to the Sanctuary 
as with a knot of flowers, its gladness beaming over all the 
melancholy tone of the country, like a garland of roses upon 
the tomb of a just man, or a sweet smile upon the austere 
countenance of a Trappist monk. The high Izarrais, green 
at its base, like life in its springtide, rough and gray at the 
summit like disillusioned old age, abruptly closed in the back- 
ground, and in the midst of all, elevated above the ground, 
unchanging amid joy and sadness, indifferent among rich 
and poor, was the statue of St. Ignatius, the image of sanc- 
tity, ever serene, constant, and tranquil, praying for, and 
invoking blessings upon all. 

A bell resounded within the college and shortly afterwards 
the travellers witnessed a spectacle common in this spot, 
but new and strange to them. Down the little staircase 
leading to the principal entrance, the novices came in pro- 
cession, three by three, with rosaries in their belts, their 
bearing modest and eyes cast down. Serene and joyful, 
they proceeded in the direction of the highway, uncovering 
their heads with affectionate respect when passing the statue 
of their founder, and afterwards dispersing in different 
directions down various roads and pathways. Two or three 


330 


CURRITA 


groups of very small novices enchanted Leopoldina, who, 
rising from the table, went outside the portico, napkin 
in hand, to gain a better view of them, saying enthusi- 
astically : — 

4 4 Just see ! what cunning little good-for-nothings ! They 
look like toy curates ! How tiny and sweet ! ” 

“Why don’t you buy them bonbons?” replied Jacob, 
sourly. 

4 4 1 certainly would if they would let me ! One is almost 
tempted to snatch up a pair of them like toys for a bric-a- 
brac stand.” 

44 They would not make bad toys,” said Jacob, with sup- 
pressed wrath. 4 4 The first mistake of the Revolution was 
to open the way to that canaille , letting them form yonder a 
nursery of intrigants, a veritable pepini&re of revolutionary 
hypocrites ! ” 

A heated discussion then ensued touching the Jesuits, in 
which some authorized texts from Eugene Sue’s novel, 44 The 
Wandering Jew,” were freely quoted, it finally being decided 
that, dinner over, and while the horses were resting, they 
would all go to visit the gloomy den. Diogenes, who until 
then had said nothing, declared most emphatically that he 
would not accompany them, because he was not accustomed 
to intrude where people had a right to show him the door, 
and that if those gentlemen knew their business they would 
certainly slam the door in the faces of these youths and 
maidens who threatened to invade their house. They all 
turned upon him furiously, and he began to scatter right and 
left shocking impertinences, while Currita, with the dignity 
of an offended queen, called Fritz, the groom, and bade him 
go at once to Loyola, to inform the Superior that the 
Countess of Albornoz would visit their house and Sanctuary 
between half-past two and three o’clock. 

Diogenes, pale and agitated, was speaking in the angry 
tone he was accustomed to use when in earnest, and rising 
suddenly from the table, he went into a small shed which 
led to the stables. Shortly afterwards they saw him come 


CURRITA 


331 


out again, livid rather than pale, and fall limply upon an 
iron bench under the archway. Gorito and Leopoldina then 
approached him, fearing serious consequences from the fall 
of the morning, and the latter with real concern said to 
him : — 

u Diogenes, you are ill, and must see a physician.” 

“A physician!” stammered Diogenes, with ‘staring eyes. 
“I never saw one in my life! Allopathy is like an Arm- 
strong cannon, and homeopathy is an Ambrosio fowling- 
piece ; so go along with your doctors and medicine and I 
will cure myself.” 

“We’ll call in the veterinary surgeon, then,” replied 
Gorito. 

‘ ‘ That is quite another thing ; they are more scientific, 
for they cure the patient without his saying a word. It will 
not be worth while, however, for I can take care of myself.” 
And ordering a bottle of gin he began to drink glass after 
glass, throwing in not only two, but three and even four 
lumps of sugar. 

Meanwhile Maria Yaldivieso was having a sentimental 
scene with Paco Velez ; for, far from devoting himself to her 
during the morning’s episode, he had thought only of saving 
himself. Jacob and Uncle Frasquito had entered the inn 
without saying where they were going, and Currita, left to 
her idyllic delights, was entertaining herself by throwing 
bread crumbs to a haughty cock, who strutted about the 
meadow, followed by several meek-looking hens. A man 
of modest aspect, with a letter in his hand, approached her 
at this moment, and asked without ceremony if she was the 
Countess of Albornoz. The proud lady only deigned to 
answer by a slight inclination of the head, whereupon the 
man delivered the letter into her hands, immediately after- 
wards re-entering the College whence he had come, by the 
little staircase of the main entrance. Currita read wonder- 
ingly these few lines : — 

“ If the Countess of Albornoz has come to Loyola to con- 
fess her sins and beg pardon of God for her misdemeanors. 


332 


CURRITA 


it will not be necessary to appoint either day or hour, for all 
are equally convenient. But if she only comes to make this 
holy house a witness to the scandal of her life, I earnestly 
beg of her not to impose the unpleasant task of refusing 
her admittance upon her humble and affectionate servant in 
Christ, Pedro Fernandez, S. J.” 

Currita, astonished, sat with the letter in her hand, in- 
tently regarding the cock, who, with one foot in the air, 
head on one side, and his inflamed eye fixed upon her, 
seemed gallantly to offer her, in case of war, the aid of his 
spurs. The lady read the letter again, and this time under- 
stood one thing ; but this was an unheard-of thing for her, 
which awakened in her soul that feeling of anger, surprise, 
and desperate rage which a wild colt experiences at the first 
prick of the spur which rends his flanks, and the first press- 
ure of the bit which controls his wilful course, letting him 
know that there is some one who can and will and must sub- 
ject and humiliate him. 

She understood that, for the first time in her life, a door 
had been closed upon her, and by one unknown to her, a 
poor friar, one Pedro Fernandez. The little fountain which 
ran bubbling at her side seemed to Currita like an echo of 
the sarcastic shout of laughter, which the world would raise 
upon seeing her conquered by Pedro Fernandez. At this 
moment Jacob’s voice resounded at her elbow, and she 
quickly hid the letter in the pocket of her gown. Jacob was 
calling his party together, for it was already half-past two, 
and if they delayed the visit to Loyola, they might reach 
Zumarraga too late. Currita arose to meet him, walking 
slowly and saying regretfully : — 

4 4 Do you know I am not at all well, and think it would be 
better to give up the visit.” 

They all believed her, for her face was pale and changed, 
and they decided to start immediately for Zumarraga and 
there rest at the inn a whole hour before the train should 
come. The gin had completely restored Diogenes, and he 
began to help Tom Sickles and the Prussian harness the 


CURRITA 333 

team, singing with the alcoholic voice of any stable boy, an 
old tune called “ El Mayoral ” : — 

“ Vamos, caballeros, 

Vamos a marcha, 

A1 coche, al coche ! 

Basta de para ! ” 

“ Let us be off, boys ! 

Let us be off ! 

All aboard ! All aboard ! 

Long enough we have stayed.” 

Jacob and Currita had taken possession of the box seat, 
the former this time having the reins, while the others dis- 
posed themselves in the same order in which they had 
come. As they passed the statue of St. Ignatius, Diogenes 
took off his hat, as he had seen the novices do, and repeated 
in a very loud voice, with the accent of an affectionate greet- 
ing, that beautiful salutation, inspired in the hearts of the 
Guipuzcoa peasants by their piety, simplicity, and love for 
the Saint, the glory of their mountains : — 

“ Aita San Ignacio . . . agur! ” 1 

Immediately afterwards, utterly regardless of Currita’s 
furious looks, which threatened to plant him in the middle 
of the road unless he held his tongue, he began to sing again 
the verses “El Mayoral. ” The coach sped along the high- 
way, leaving behind the baths of San Juan, the village of 
Juin Torrea hidden by its gardens, the convent of Santa 
Cruz high up on its mountain, and the ruinous Florida 
palace, where Jean- Jacques Rousseau in person had presided 
over more than one unlawful assemblage of encyclopedists. 
They crossed the streets of Azcoitia on a walk, all of them 
more subdued than in the morning, and again came out 
upon the highway, flanked by the river, and at this point 
nearly buried in an extremely wild and narrow glen, formed 
by two high mountains, covered with gloomy forests, which 
seemed like armies of trees trying to scale to their summit 


1 Father St. Ignatius . . . good-bye ! 


334 


CURRITA 


to unloose the heart of the clouds, blue at times and vapor- 
ous as the floating tunic of a Maitagarri poetess, and again 
gray and floating, but gloomy as the winding-sheet which 
covers the rigid features of the dead. The scenery was wild 
and sombre, and was made awful by the many cataracts of 
water dashing over the immense boulders, the constant 
plaint of the river obstructed by rocks, and the absence of 
the sun, which the two high mountains completely concealed 
at this hour. 

Currita, seated upon the box-seat, as gloomy but not 
as peaceful as the scene, turned over in her mind the letter 
from Loyola. She felt a sort of secret irritation, which she 
could not analyze, nor could she understand by whom it had 
been inspired ; for by a strange phenomenon which she her- 
self could not explain, the author of the letter and cause of 
the offence only appeared to her in a secondary capacity, 
rather as a representative, or instrument of a Being more 
powerful, who seemed to compel the proud lady to feel 
ashamed and humiliated and silent. Somewhat further on, 
upon turning a bend in the road, they saw, standing upon 
the very brink of the mountain, three of the little novices 
who had so enchanted Leopoldina. They were not alone. 
With them was a decrepit old woman, her head covered with 
the white toque peculiar to the Yasconese peasant- woman, 
who was trying to lift upon her shoulders, with the aid of the 
novices, a heavy fagot of wood, which she had dropped upon 
the ground a moment to recover her breath and rest. Her 
task was hopeless. She had not gone ten paces when fatigue 
overcame her, and the fagot of wood, outweighing her 
strength, again fell to the ground. The woman burst into 
tears. The novices consulted among themselves a moment, 
and one of them, the strongest, then took the fagot upon his 
shoulder and began to climb the rugged slope towards a 
dilapidated village which could be discerned at the top of 
the mountain, as small and hidden away as a bird’s-nest. 

Leopoldina, touched in her own way, cried out exclaiming 
that those little good-for-nothings were angels from heaven, 


CURRITA 


335 


and little saints whom one should venerate, and that as 
soon as she reached home she would send each one of them 
a pair of black stockings made by her own hands out of the 
finest wool which could be found. Everybody laughed; 
Currita, however, was silent, feeling a strange compassion 
which humiliated her, and which she hastened for that very 
reason to resist, opposing to its beneficent influence that 
parapet of inexorable pride which gradually grows in the 
soul like a fortress of evil. Those three novices, three 
Pedro Fernandez in embryo, stooping through charity to a 
beggar, made her understand that the Superior of Loyola 
might have written that letter through a sense of duty to 
her, a haughty grandee of Spain ; and a sudden light like a 
flash of lightning, which illumines as well as terrifies, made 
her clearly see what she had before only suspected, that this 
rebuff was not inflicted by one unknown to her, a poor friar, 
or a Pedro Fernandez, and that this door, the first ever 
closed to her in her life, was not the door of Loyola, but the 
gate of heaven. 

She felt cold, and asked Kate for a light wrap, in which, 
still silent and pensive, she closely enveloped herself. The 
light continued to illumine her soul, and by its reflection she 
seemed to take an abstract view of herself, and to see her- 
self as the entire world must see her, as the unknown Pedro 
Fernandez must contemplate her, seated upon that box- 
seat by Jacob’s side. She instinctively glanced at the 
latter, and for the first time in her life he seemed to her what 
he had never seemed before, an accomplice. 

The coach now rattled through the streets of Villareal, 
crossed the bridge which separated this town from Zumar- 
raga and stopped opposite the station, among sundry dili- 
gences and unequipped coaches, at the door of a well 
known inn, whose vast dining-room on the ground-floor 
opens out into the public plaza. The ladies retired to a 
room to refresh themselves; the gentlemen dispersed in 
different directions, while Tom Sickles and the Prussian 
lodged the coach and the horses in a neighboring coach- 


336 


CURKITA 


house, until the following day, when they would drive them 
to Madrid. It still wanted a whole hour before train 
time. 

Uncle Frasquito, in immaculate toilet, clean and resplen- 
dent, with his gloves of very fine suede in one hand and a 
light wrap belonging to Leopoldina Pastor in the other, 
entered the dining-room and ordered a currant ice. He 
never received it, however. One of the waiting-maids ran 
screaming into the room, without being able to articulate a 
word, making frantic gestures for him to follow her. In a 
passage-way near the kitchen, opposite a half-open door- 
way, Diogenes was lying on his back, his arms crossed, one 
of his legs doubled under him, and his face overspread with 
a ghastly pallor, upon which his red and pimply blotches, 
now livid and almost black, stood out hideously ; he looked 
like a dead man. 

Uncle Frasquito screamed and ran, calling to Jacob and 
Gorito at the top of his voice. All the inn servants hastened 
to the scene, Jacob with them, looking at his watch with a 
gesture of extreme annoyance. 

“He is even a nuisance about dying,” he said, upon see- 
ing himself at Diogenes’ side. 

Two robust young men, sons of the inn-keeper, bore him 
away and placed him on a bed in a room on the first floor. 
The physician came in all haste, instantly summoned, and 
upon hearing of the morning’s fall, and after examining the 
patient, made an ominous prognostication. It was a cere- 
bral attack, caused by the fall, and if he rallied from the 
first shock, he must inevitably succumb to the second. The 
ladies, much affected, did not dare leave their room, much 
less look at the sick man. Maria Valdivieso, with profound 
compassion, asked if he looked very ugly. Leopoldina, with 
unfeigned sorrow, sobbed loudly ; presently she said : — 

“ I wonder if the poor fellow has any money.” 

Meanwhile the inn-keeper approached Jacob and asked 
for his orders; but the latter shrugging his shoulders with 
studied indifference, informed him that neither he nor any 


CURRITA 


337 


of his party had anything to do with the man, that he was 
a mere acquaintance, who had taken a seat in their coach at 
Biarritz without being asked, and that he could not be 
responsible for him, much less give orders concerning him. 
The train would soon be due, and having decided to start, 
after a slight discussion, in which the most cruel selfishness 
triumphed, they all took their leave. Leopoldina, very ill 
at ease, begged Currita at least to leave her Prussian groom 
Fritz in charge of the unfortunate man. Currita replied 
that if he wished to remain that night, she had no objections. 
But he would have but a poor night of it, and the following 
day would be compelled to leave, as Tom could not go to 
Madrid alone with the six horses. Leopoldina then went to 
the inn-keeper and said to him with great earnestness : — 

“Ido not know whether this poor man has any money or 
not, but if not, please put down to my account everything 
that may be necessary for him. I am General Pastor’s 
sister and this is my address.” And she gave it to him 
carefully written upon a card. Uncle Frasquito also 
came forward and earnestly besought the good man to 
advise him by telegraph and without delay, as soon as the 
unfortunate man should breathe his last. He gave him his 
name and address and the cost of the telegram, sixpence. 

At nine o’clock that night the invalid seemed to be 
gradually sinking, and the inn-keeper, frightened, sent for 
the parish priest, that he might anoint him for death. The 
crisis passed, however, and towards twelve o’clock, Diogenes 
opened his eyes to see before him the inn-keeper, a tall, 
stout, clean-shaven man in a long coat and without a cravat, 
a most thoroughly characteristic type of the thrifty Guipuz- 
coan peasant. It was some time before he could realize 
what had happened, and then a frightful idea flashed into 
his mind. In a broken and dying voice, which, however, 
revealed all the agony of terror, supplication, and doubt, he 
said in an undertone : — 

“ Will they take me to the hospital?” 

The inn-keeper looked at him wonderingly, almost angrily* 

22 


338 


CURRITA 


and answered, with all the rough honesty of the genuine 
Guipuzcoan : — 

“ Stop there, sir ! A hospital in Guipuzcoa? Never ! ” 
Diogenes gave a sigh of relief, and burst into tears. 


CHAPTER X 

Diogenes was not conscious of having received Extreme 
Unction, and being partly pacified by the inn-keeper’s reply, 
other thoughts began to penetrate through., the dense mist 
which shrouded his mind. At times a heavy stupor and 
profound lethargy, already a foretaste of death, took pos- 
session of his whole being, and scattered here and there 
those ideas which he had struggled to collect, making them 
seem like imperceptible luminous spots, floating in a dense 
fog, slowly fading away, little by little, until all but one 
were completely extinguished. It was the thought of death, 
accompanied and surrounded by the uncertainty of eternity, 
disconsolate as the last agony, sad as a candle burning near 
a corpse, or terrible as a glimpse of the flames of hell. 

The lethargy at times increased, and this awful light, 
which was light none the less, was also extinguished ; and 
Diogenes, upon seeing himself in the dark, upon feeling 
himself sink into that sleep which seemed to him the last, 
into that black shadow and sinister silence in which sight 
and voice are lost, dug his nails into the sheets and tore 
them to pieces, as if clinging desperately to the edge of the 
grave, in which he was about to be buried. His eyes no 
sooner closed than he awoke with horrible nightmares, as 
if something uncanny had suddenly touched him ; the slight- 
est noises assumed colossal proportions, the rumble of the 
train seeming like a cataract of molten bronze pouring into 
his ears, the stage-coach bells like double reverberations 
of a thousand drum-sticks beating upon his own ear-drums; 
and the peculiar creaking of the Basque wagons, the sonua , 


CURRITA 


339 


or signal which informs the Basque peasant of the turns of 
the roads, seemed like an infernal noise which, by a diabolical 
prodigy, issued from a volcanic ridge of mountains, and 
which racked his brain horribly. Thus the night passed. 
A little before dawn the stupor vanished, the lethargy fled 
with its nightmares, and he fell into a deep sleep, which 
lasted for more than two hours. A monotonous sound 
which made his head ache, but which resounded like a 
friendly echo in his heart, now awoke him. It was the 
church bell ringing for mass. 

Diogenes opened his eyes feeling much better ; he raised 
himself a little, and it seemed to him that he felt almost 
entirely well ; his head was clear, his limbs weak but agile ; 
he even imagined he felt hungry, and the idea occurred to 
him to order for breakfast a large glass of gin with two 
lumps of sugar. He looked about him ; a little night-lamp 
was sputtering away upon a table near by, while an elderly 
woman, seated at the foot of the bed in a large arm-chair, 
was coughing disagreeably. Through the crevices of the 
two closed windows, some stray sunbeams were stealing, 
as if the new day was smilingly advancing on tiptoe to 
greet the sick man. The latter sat up in bed agreeably 
surprised, and recovering with his health his jocose good- 
humor, threw a pillow, the first thing he could lay his hands 
on, at the old woman, shrieking out at the top of his voice 
a formidable “ Polaina ! ” which made her spring terrified 
out of her seat, muttering some words in Basque ! 

He then bade her throw both windows wide open, and 
the light and fresh air flooded the room; the latter playful 
as a child, caressing the white hairs of the sick man like an 
affectionate grandchild, bringing with it the sweet odor of 
the dew-covered ground, the healthy mountain perfumes 
and the joyful chirpings of the birds, while the solemn 
sound of the church bell seemed to be calling to him like 
a loving voice from on high, “ Come ! Come ! ” What 
foolish fears his had been ! What ridiculous terrors those 
of the night before ! Death ! Who thinks of dying when 


340 


CURRITA 


day breaks, when the sun rises in a sky so blue, and when 
the green and flowery mountains can be seen in the distance 
bathed in sunlight. 

The doctor came in again with the inn-keeper to see him, 
and Diogenes received them, joking with the former and 
grunting affectionately at the latter, casting at him expres- 
sive glances from his bloodshot eyes, which did not lack 
tenderness, and which showed the gratitude which the inn- 
keeper’s charitable conduct had inspired in him. The physi- 
cian, after examining him carefully and asking a number 
of questions which Diogenes answered half fretfully, half 
good-humoredly, finally raised the sick man!s eyelids, which 
partly concealed two dilated and bloody pupils lacking con- 
vergence, and shook his head ominously. The first attack 
had passed, but the symptoms of the second were already 
there, and it was impossible that his already completely 
alcoholized system could resist its powerful onslaught. He 
then exchanged with the inn-keeper some words in Basque, 
to which Diogenes listened, looking from one to the other 
uneasily. Suddenly without palliative or preliminaries the 
physician said to him, with peasant bluntness, that death 
was unmistakably approaching, and that he must make use 
of these lucid moments which his illness conceded him, to 
arrange his affairs with men and liquidate his accounts 
with God. 

The blow was cruel, for upon hearing him Diogenes felt 
that something had been uprooted within him, — his hope of 
life, the most forlorn, as it is the last of all hopes, and 
which never is plucked out without leaving behind stream- 
ing eyes and a bleeding heart. A movement of fierce anger 
blinded him, for there is nothing more illogical than terror ; 
and as it seemed to him that this was a barefaced robbery 
they were inflicting upon him, he turned furiously on the 
doctor, as if it was he who wished to despoil him, flinging 
in his face all the injuries and obscenities that anger and 
horror had awakened in his inmost soul. Frightened and 
surprised, the doctor and the inn-keeper instantly withdrew, 


CURRITA 


341 


leaving Diogenes alone, tossing about furiously, for he 
understood, from the prostration and the agony which fol- 
lowed his paroxysm, that the physician had neither exag- 
gerated nor lied, that death was actually approaching, and 
that he must either be condemned or capitulate. 

It is believed with reason that nothing is more dreadful 
than to fathom the conscience of a hardened sinner in his 
death trance. Behind that livid and disfigured visage ter- 
rible struggles often ensue, which the powers of evil sustain 
with the good spirits, frightful phantoms which the con- 
science evokes, bloody combats which the angel of repent- 
ance and the angel of impenitence wage round that petrified 
soul. This of course is dreadful ; but here at least there is 
a struggle, and where there is a struggle there is always a 
hope and a probability of conquering, and it is a state less 
horrible than that other which is often lodged behind those 
glassy pupils, — the appalling calm of a soul which gradually 
sinks into eternity, conscious of it, but only engrossed with 
trivial thoughts with which it seeks to distract its mind, 
hiding from its own self the frightful abyss until death sud- 
denly wields the scythe and the soul awakens in a twinkling, 
already chained in the depths of hell. Most deadly lethargy 
and horrible declivity which, without a miracle of divine 
grace, leads straight to eternal condemnation, and which 
is as frightful in these moments as the ominous door before 
which Dante quailed and hesitated. 

This was Diogenes’ state upon seeing himself alone ; but, 
furious, exhausted, and spent, he sank back upon the pillows, 
turning his face to the wall. The thought of hell was the 
first to flash through his mind, but he instantly banished it, 
turning his attention instead to the hideous paper on the 
wall, which, covered from top to bottom with garlands of 
flowers, had long strings of monkeys entwined among them, 
climbing to the ceiling, in grotesque attitudes, all holding 
hands. These ugly little animals looked like little devils 
to Diogenes, and he began to count them one by one, mak- 
ing superhuman efforts to follow them with his eyes, and 


342 


CURRITA 


counting in all, as far as he could see, more than five 
hundred and twenty. The woman who had kept watch 
during the night was still there, seated in a corner knitting. 
She was called outside a moment, and it then occurred to 
Diogenes that he also might be called upon at any moment 
to render his account; an answer came ready to his lips, 
taken from one of his thousand shocking stories. A gypsy, 
an incorrigible thief, once went to confession, and the priest 
said to him: “ What would you do, wretched man, if the 
Supreme Judge should summon you now to judgment ? ” 

“ What would I do ? not go, of course ! ” he replied. 

“Not go! not go!” repeated Diogenes; and he at once 
began to plan a fantastic journey of flight, in which he 
imagined himself taking his seat in the stage-coach, which 
had just stopped at the door and the sound of whose sono- 
rous bells pierced his head through and through ; he would 
escape to San Sebastian, whence he would embark for the 
ends of the earth, fleeing like Cain from that Judge who pur- 
sued him, going round and round the earth, again and 
again, until finally it made him dizzy, producing terrible 
attacks of nausea during which he already seemed to see the 
finger of Death, Death ! That accursed alarm-clock on the 
table brought it continually before his mind, the beat of 
its ominous tic-tac seeming to dispose of his own moments, 
more fleeting than ever, and, full of rage, he ordered the 
woman to stop it. The latter misunderstood him, and, 
thinking he wished to see the hour, hastened to take it to 
him. Diogenes, snatching it out of her hand in a towering 
rage, dashed it into pieces against the opposite wall. 

Meanwhile, Heaven sent him unexpected aid by the same 
coach in which he had fancied himself fleeing from the 
Supreme Judge. In it, returning from Zaldivar, whose 
medicinal waters she took every year, was the Marchioness 
of Villasis and her granddaughter Monina, accompanied by 
the latter’s governess, her own maid, and two male servants, 
an old majordomo who accompanied her upon all her jour- 
neys, and an ancient retainer who rode upon the box-seat. 


CURRITA 


343 


It was her intention to take the Southern express train which 
passed through Zumarraga at half-past two, in order to reach 
Madrid that same night. 

The inn-keeper immediately engaged in conversation with 
Don Federico, the majordomo, and, full of Diogenes’ presence 
at the inn, related to him the story of his accident and sad 
condition. The old man, surprised, hastened to tell the 
Marchioness this piece of news, which would be of such inter- 
est to her ; and the latter, profoundly moved, wished to go at 
once to the dying man. Reflecting, however, a moment, and 
anxious to be well prepared, she sent for the inn-keeper, that 
she might be informed beforehand of all the details of the sad 
accident, whose mournful consequences were apparent. But 
no sooner did she know the sick man was not expected to last 
over night, than she felt she had heard enough, and immedi- 
ately gave orders to Don Federico to suspend the journey 
and to engage rooms for them all at the inn. She then went 
into the inn-keeper’s private office and quickly wrote to the 
Superior of Loyola, asking him to send one of the fathers 
without loss of time, to the assistance of a dying man, whose 
name and condition she told him. A messenger on horse- 
back set out on a gallop with the letter ; and an hour after- 
wards it was delivered. 

The Marchioness now wished to see the sick man ; but, 
fearful lest her sudden presence might cause him some 
violent emotion, she asked the inn-keeper to break the news 
of her arrival to him, little "by little. They both went up to 
the room, which opened out upon a corridor, and the inn- 
keeper timidly peeped in at the door. Diogenes, very much 
prostrated, his head buried in the pillows, and both arms 
extended upon the counterpane, was unconsciously rolling 
the sheets in his hands, for he was beginning to feel again 
that terrible stupor and ominous lethargy which had tor- 
mented him the night before. The inn-keeper advanced a 
few steps, leaving the door wide open, and said in a loud 
voice : — 

‘ ‘ Sir, you have a visitor.” 


344 


CURRITA 


Diogenes turned his head slightly and stammered out 
angrily : — 

“A visitor? Who? The undertaker? Polainaf Let 
him wait ! ” 

“ It is a lady.” 

“A lady? Polaina!” And he blurted out an obscene 
remark, which almost drove the inn-keeper to despair, and 
made the Marchioness blush crimson behind the door, that 
holy blush which so many times rises to the faces of the 
strong and chaste angels of charity, who serve in the 
hospitals, without, however, frightening them, or making" 
them fly from the bedsides of certain sick men. The inn- 
keeper, very much annoyed, wished to end the matter at once 
and said : — 

“ It is the Marchioness of Villasis.” 

Diogenes cried out in a loud voice, a pained cry as if 
some one had uttered a blasphemy ; he tried to spring out of 
bed, to sit up at least ; but he lacked the strength and fell 
back heavily, raising his arms and wringing his hands, 
giving vent to unintelligible groans and strange mutterings, 
which seemed to picture the emotion of a wild beast ago- 
nizing in his cave. The Marchioness then advanced, and 
without fear or disgust pressed between both her own his 
perspiring hands. 

“ Maria! Maria ! ” he exclaimed. 

“ What does this mean, Perico? What is the matter, old 
man?” she said softly, bending her face streaming with 
tears over his disfigured countenance. 

“Iam dying, Maria. I am dying. You were right, after 
all. It is not in a hospital, but it is on charity, at an inn.” 

“What difference does that make? A hospital bed is 
nearer heaven than that of a palace.” 

Diogenes, sobbing, was silent, and the Marchioness came a 
step nearer ; the dying man, still sobbing, asked : — 

“ Where is Monina?” 

“ She is downstairs. Do you want to see her? ” 

“Yes! Indeed I do. The little angel! I will give her a 


CURRITA 


345 


kiss. May I not? It will be the last, Maria! I will only 
kiss her little shoe, nothing more. Go! for Heaven’s sake, 
I beg of you ; let me do it, if it will not disgust you.” 

The Marchioness, profoundly moved, seemed then to have 
a sudden inspiration ; she disengaged her hands from those 
of Diogenes, who held them closely, and said : — 

44 Wait just a little while, and I will bring her to you.” 

Outside the room she hurriedly wiped the tears from her 
eyes that they might not alarm Monina, and, holding the latter 
upon her lap, began to explain to her in a low voice and 
with much earnestness something of great importance. The 
child listened with wide-open eyes and that air of profound 
attention which reveals at times in children an instinct 
superior to their years for divining the dangerous and the 
terrible. When her grandmother ceased speaking, she 
nodded her little head. The former kissed her on the fore- 
head with intense love and repeated again very carefully 
what she had before said, emphasizing very much certain 
sentences. Monina, still silent, again nodded. The lady 
then took her by the hand, and, entering Diogenes’ room, 
lifted her on the bed without saying a word, and left the 
room, closing the door behind her. 

And now what happened? Did this child six years of 
age really understand her grandmother’s commission? Did 
Diogenes’ angel guardian speak through her innocent lips? 
It is certain that the little child, without being frightened 
at this horribly disfigured face, already stamped with the 
agony of death, or without showing repugnance at the foul 
odors exhaled by the dying man, buried her tiny pink 
hands in the old man’s white whiskers, and pulling them 
while she spoke, as she used to do long ago, said to him 
in a very low voice, putting her little red lips close to his 
ear : — 

44 I have some cookies, and will give you one. You did n’t 
bring the dolly that says 4 papa ’ and 4 mamma ; ’ but 
grandmother brought me a great big cry-baby dolly and she 
says you are going to die; and won’t you try to confess? 


346 


CURRITA 


I will pray for you when I pray for my papa and mamma 
and grandpapa who are in heaven. I am going too. 
Don’t you want to go? Then confess! ” 

And Monina, her mission accomplished, kissed him on 
the forehead, slid down off the bed, and made for the door. 
Diogenes sobbed as if his heart would break; the bed 
creaked with the violent convulsions of his body ; and wring- 
ing his hands he stammered out in a gradually failing 
voi’ce : — 

“Yes! Yes! Ido! I do! Maria! Maria! Do you hear 
what the child says ? I want to confess ! But to whom ? 
My God ! to whom ? Who will hear my confession ? Where 
is there a place filthy enough to receive my sins? I am 
infamous, despicable ! My God ! I repent, I repent ! ” 

And he struck himself on the breast with both closed 
fists, violent blows, which resounded throughout the whole 
room and made him cough severely, producing a slight 
hemorrhage. Monina, all her courage gone, once outside the 
room, clung with white lips to her governess’s skirts, asking 
in a low voice : — 

“ Is he dead yet? ” 

Meanwhile the Marchioness tried to soothe Diogenes, 
telling him she had already sent in all haste to Loyola for 
a Jesuit father, who must arrive at any moment. Diogenes 
exclaimed : — 

“I was educated by them, but would never say so; it 
would disgrace them ! ” 

This violent emotion seemed to have cleared the sick 
man’s mind, but his body resented it, and he was apparently 
sinking rapidly. The Marchioness asked for a crucifix, and, 
holding it before him, told him to make his examination of 
conscience before it, while waiting for the father. Diogenes 
took it in both hands and kissed it devoutly, but very soon 
let it fall upon the counterpane, weeping disconsolately : — 

“ I don’t know how, Maria. I have forgotten.” 

“Never mind. I can teach you in a moment.” And 
with great tenderness she explained to him how to make his 


CURRITA 


347 ‘ 


examination of conscience, Diogenes listening to her atten- 
tively, and looking from time to time at the crucifix. When 
the Marchioness ceased speaking, he said to her with the 
simplicity of a child : — 

“ I shall surely forget something. It would be better for 
me to tell everything to you now, and you can tell it after- 
wards to the father, and, between the two, see if I have left 
out anything.” 

“ But that is not at all necessary,” replied the Mar- 
chioness, without being able to restrain a smile. “ Do 
your best to think now, and afterwards the father will help 
you.” 

Diogenes lay for a long time silent, holding the crucifix 
in both hands, his eyes fixed upon it. At times his chest 
heaved with sobs, and floods of tears coursed down his 
cheeks. He would then kiss the feet of the crucifix, close 
his eyes, and seem to be praying. The Marchioness had 
seated herself at the foot of the bed, in the large arm-chair, 
and was saying the rosary. The bells of a stage-coach were 
heard, and the lady made a movement to rise. Diogenes 
opened his eyes in alarm. 

“ Maria! Are you going?” 

“No. I was only going to see if the father had arrived.” 

“ But you will not go away? ” 

“ No, Perico, no, — don’t worry, I am not going.” 

“ Will you stay until I die?” 

“ Until you die? Yes ! ” she replied sweetly. 

Diogenes closed his eyes, relieved and tranquil, like 
a child who sleeps within sight of his mother. After a long 
interval he said : — 

“Maria! I can’t remember the Credo. How was that 
part, 4 He ascended into heaven, sitteth’ — where is He 
seated ? 

“ At the right hand of God the Father,” said the Mar- 
chioness, smiling. 

“Almighty,” continued Diogenes; and then slowly and 
in a loud voice he finished this act of faith, afterwards kiss- 


' 348 


CURRITA 


ing the crucifix with great fervor. The door opened, and 
the inn-keeper announced that two fathers from Loyola had 
arrived. The Marchioness wished to go meet them, but 
Diogenes with great uneasiness hastened to say : — 

“Maria! don’t go. Let them come in by themselves. 
Why should you go?” 

Through the open door a strange figure entered, which 
surprised the Marchioness and made Diogenes fall back on 
his pillows, upon seeing it come towards him with both 
arms extended. One would have said that Death in person, 
clothed in a Jesuit’s cassock, had presented himself in the 
room. It was a tall old man emaciated almost to the point 
of transparency. He wore an old cassock encircled at the 
waist by a girdle, from which was suspended a rosary, 
while beneath his cap escaped long locks of white hair. He 
walked slowly with both hands extended as if he feared 
stumbling, for he was half blind, and so, tottering at every 
step, he reached Diogenes’ bedside without seeing the Mar- 
chioness; here he began to grope about until he touched 
one of Diogenes’ hands. With a childish smile which con- 
trasted strangely with his white locks, and in a voice quaver- 
ing but sweet, although pinched from constant asthma, he 
said softly : — 

“ Perico ! My son ! It is I ; don’t you know me ? ” 
Diogenes, astonished, stared at this strange apparition 
without being able to say a word, and questioned with 
a glance first the Marchioness and then the younger 
priest, who had come in behind the old man ; the latter 
added : — 

“I am Father Mateu, your inspector in the College of 
Noblemen. Don’t you remember? ” 

“ Yes! Yes, I do! ” exclaimed Diogenes, in a loud voice, 
pressing between his own, without losing hold of the cruci- 
fix, this cold withered hand, which he carried with great 
fervor to his lips. The old man with his serene, childish 
smile turned towards his companion, saying with intense 
satisfaction : — 


CURRITA 


349 


“He remembers! You see, he remembers! I knew he 
would ! I said so.” 

“ Of course I do,” said Diogenes, seriously. “ You were 
very good to me and loved me, — ah ! yes ! very much, — and 
it was you who taught me to say c Bendita sea tu pureza ,’ 1 
and afterwards the three Ave Marias which you said -would 
obtain mercy from the Blessed Virgin.” 

“ It is true, true, Perico,” replied the old man, gravely, 
“and in yourself you see the proof, for you must certainly 
have said them.” 

“Yes! father, always, always, and I taught them to 
Monina. Not a single night did I neglect them, even 
though — ” 

The old man interrupted him with great vivacity : — 

“ I knew it. I knew Our Lady would concede you mercy. 
I prayed for it,” and, still smiling, he clasped his hands, 
raising them to heaven with a beatific expression, “ for 
some time ago Miguelito Tacon told me, when I saw him in 
Cuba as Captain-General in the year thirty-five, that you 
were leading a — well — somewhat gay life — and see now 
how good our Blessed Mother has been ! For I feel she has 
preserved me eighty-six years, Perico, eighty-six years — for 
this.” 

Diogenes, more and more prostrated, wept silently; the 
old man, seeking at random the sick man’s hand, added, 
pressing it with all his feeble strength : — 

“ Because you wish to see me. Is it not so, Perico? You 
want to confess? ” 

“ Yes, father, — I do — and to you — this very minute,” 
exclaimed Diogenes, extending his arms towards him, like a 
child to its mother. 

The old priest, still smiling, but weeping at the same time, 
threw himself into them, murmuring : — 

“ Eighty-six years! Eighty-six years — waiting for you.” 

Meanwhile the Marchioness of Villasis and the other 


1 Blessed be thy purity. — Tr. 


350 


CURRITA 


father had left the room, and the latter related to the lady 
the old priest’s history. Father Mateu had known Diogenes 
from his childhood, in the College of Noblemen, and hearing 
he was dying in Zumarraga asked permission of the Superior 
to go to his assistance ; the latter refused, fearing lest at his 
extremely advanced age this work of charity might cost him 
his life ; but the old man urged him with so much earnest- 
ness, and begged with so much anxiety, assuring him with 
such profound conviction that God had preserved him eighty- 
six years only for this, that the Superior could not do less 
than gratify him. 

Through the closed door Diogenes’ sobs could be heard 
from time to time, and again his cries of horror, inspired by 
the contemplation of himself, followed by tears of contri- 
tion, disconsolate and abundant, but sweet and free from 
bitterness, as is that of all grief supported by Faith and 
Hope. An hour elapsed, and finally a little bell was rung 
in the room. The Marchioness and the other Jesuit hastened 
to enter. 

Father Mateu was seated at the head of the bed, exhausted 
and panting as if, in that short hour, he had lost the few 
remnants of strength he possessed, while two streams of 
tears, which lost themselves in his white beard, flowed from 
Diogenes’ eyes. With a slight sign he called the Marchioness 
to his bedside and whispered to her with an expression of 
ineffable joy : — 

“ Father Mateu says that God has pardoned me.” 

And then in the same breath, with the profound con- 
tempt and Christian humility of the sinner who sees himself 
close to the grave, he added, in a whisper so low as to seem 
almost a moan, trying in vain to strike his breast : — 

“ Has pardoned me ! me! ” 

The younger priest now arranged that Father Mateu 
should return to Loyola before nightfall, and that Don 
Federico should accompany him in the coach which was 
waiting. The two old men, both dying, separated without 
grief, like two friends on the threshold of a palace, who, 


CURRITA 


351 


about to enter by different doors, shake hands and say, 
“ Au revoir ! ” The young priest now proposed to bring the 
Holy Viaticum to the sick man, and the latter received the 
news, closing his eyes with profound humility, saying : — 

“Tome! Tome!” 

The father had no sooner left the room than Diogenes 

© 

became very much agitated, groaning audibly and rolling 
his eyes about in a terrified manner. The Marchioness 
approached him ; he had forgotten a very great sin ; and 
before the lady had time to call the priest, he said to her 
with a great effort : — 

“ To amuse myself and to annoy Frasquito, I wrote him 
every day a letter calling him an idiot ! I kept it up for 
four months. When Jacob returned from Italy he asked me 
to stop it; he said for a reason which interested him. Beg 
Frasquito’s pardon for me, Maria. I am sorry, very 
sorry ! ” 

The viaticum arrived, and the dying man received it with 
many tears, and a certain affectionate and humble awe 
which made him continually repeat : — 

“ To me ! To me ! ” 

He then asked for Extreme Unction, but when they told 
him he had already received it the evening before, he with 
great simplicity wished to receive it again. 

“ I was not conscious of it,” he said. “ Let me receive it 
again, so that I may go better prepared.” 

At seven o’clock he was still conscious, and suddenly 
cried out loudly, calling for Monina. The Marchioness had 
the child brought in, and placed her as before on the bed in 
front of him. The poor little creature clung affrighted to 
her grandmother’s neck, and looked at the sick man with 
staring eyes, surprised and silent, without daring to cry. 
The dying man tried to raise his hand, but could not; he 
gazed at the child with unutterable tenderness, and making a 
painful effort said : — 

“ I taught you 4 Bendita sea tu pureza.’ Say it for me ! ” 

The child’s eyes filled with tears, and her little breast 


352 


CURRITA 


began to quiver like that of a frightened bird : her grand- 
mother whispered to her : — 

“ Say it, my child. You know it, darling, perfectly ; 
say it.” 

The child clasped her little hands and began her prayer, 
Diogenes repeating it after her in a low voice, very slowly 
and with a certain august solemnity, which reminded one of 
the notes of an organ accompanying an angel’s chant : — 

“ Bendita sea tu pureza, 

Y Eternamente lo sea, 

Plies todo un Dios se recrea 
En tu graciosa belleza. 

A ti, Celestial Princesa, 

Yirgen Sagrada Maria, 

Yo te ofrezco en este dia, 

Alma, vida y corazon. 

Mirame, con compacion.” 

“ Blessed be thy purity. 

And it shall be, eternally. 

For all Heaven rejoices 
In thy gracious beauty, 

To thee, Celestial Princess, 

Blessed Virgin Mother, 

I offer thee this day. 

My soul, my life, my heart. 

Have thou compassion on me.” 

Diogenes was here silent, and only Monina’s trembling 
little voice was heard, which by a happy error, or an inspira- 
tion from Heaven, mistook the words in the last verse : — 

“No le dejes, Madre*mia.” 

“ Do not forsake him, Mother mine.” 

Diogenes could no longer hear her; the death-rattle, with 
its agonizing gaspings, had begun, with intervals at times of 
more than a minute’s duration. The child was carried away. 
The Marchioness and the priest knelt and began to pray for 
the repose of the soul. At a quarter of eleven, without 


CURRITA 


353 


convulsions or apparent agony, and without losing his hold 
of the crucifix, he breathed his last. 

The following morning, when the Jesuit returned to Loyola 
after the solemn requiem mass, which the Marchioness had 
celebrated in Zumarraga, he heard the church bells also 
tolling there. Father Mateu had died that same night, 
being found at dawn already cold, and extended on his bed. 
In his hands was the rosary, and his pure, childish smile still 
hovered about his lips. Upon his forehead, yellow as 
antique marble, a crown of white hairs realized the most 
wonderful type of moral beauty which man can conceive : 
Innocence with a white head . 1 


CHAPTER XI 

Many grave events had happened from the time we lost 
sight of Jacob en route to Italy until we again find him upon 
the highway to Guipuzcoa driving the coach and six horses 
by Currita’s side. The apparition of a strange phenomenon 
at the gates of Madrid was the first event, which caused 
the Marquis of Villamelon a fright greater than that experi- 
enced by Catilina at the gates of Rome, Mahomet II. at 
Constantinople, Isabella the Catholic at Granada, or William 
I. at the gates of Paris. It was the trichina ! ! Horrible 
and painful it was either to have to renounce with Israelitic 
severity the rosy and aromatic Extremadura hams, and 
Geneva sausages as variegated as mosaics, or run the risk 
of swallowing the diabolical microbe. The grief -stricken 
Fernandito followed it in his imagination through all its evo- 
lutions, seeing it lengthen out until converted into a tape- 
worm, or swell in bulk until, at the expense of the pith of 
his stomach, it changed into a boa-constrictor, identical 

1 The death of this holy old man, occurring almost at the same time 
as that of the person he had aided, is an historical fact. 

23 


354 


CURRITA 


with those he had once seen swallowing hens, rabbits, and 
even goats, as easily as he could swallow one after another 
whole little barrels of Sevillian olives. This occurred about 
eighteen days after Jacob’s sudden departure, and between 
an afflicted spirit, rebellious stomach, and failing mind, 
Villamelon received an affectionate letter from this kind 
friend, in which, with most loving forethought and exquisite 
delicacy, he enclosed him an infallible prescription against 
the trichina, obtained from the Tramponetti brothers them- 
selves, who were employed in the Geneva sausage factories. 
The prescription was quite simple. It was only necessary 
to dip the pork three times in ordinary boiling water, with 
the utensils, of course, in which it was to be cooked. Fer- 
nandito, believing himself to be in possession of a precious 
talisman, hastened to tell the good news to his beloved 
spouse Curra, and was ready to boil all the hams in his pan- 
try, all the pans in his kitchen, with all the scullery boys and 
the cook in the bargain. And why not? Only a few days 
before he had read in a periodical that the Emperor of Bur- 
mah had commanded seven hundred persons to be buried 
alive, in order to appease the diabolical spirits who had dis- 
seminated the black smallpox throughout his dominions. 
And why should he not boil a cook and three scullery boys 
to ward off the trichina from his person and from the persons 
of his relatives and friends ? Currita received the news with 
appalling indifference, and flatly refused to make use of the 
prescription with a certain sort of suppressed anger quite 
uncalled for under the circumstances. She also had received 
that day an affectionate letter from Jacob, likewise dated in 
Milan, vaguely telling her of great dangers and important 
business matters, and promising her, with the certainty of 
one sure of being warmly welcomed, the unutterable pleasure 
of his speedy return and a satisfactory explanation of his 
sudden departure. 

“Excellent friend!” exclaimed Villamelon. “This very 
minute I shall write to thank him.” 

Currita, with an angry gesture, opened her lips as if about 


CURRITA 


355 


to say something to him, but suddenly controlling herself, 
she said shortly, with her accustomed equanimity : — 

“ Very well, but send me the letter afterwards, that I may 
add a few lines ; in this way I shall save myself writing him 
at length.” 

Half an hour later a servant handed her Fernandito’s 
letter upon a silver salver, and the lady, after reading it, 
tore it into a thousand pieces, with gestures of rage. Two 
other letters from Jacob had been received at the Court that 
same day, one for the Marquis of Butron, long and explicit, 
full of lies and snares, which, without altogether deceiving 
the haughty diplomat, made him realize that, far from re- 
leasing the young Telemachus from his tutelage, he should 
need him more than ever, and must therefore continue initi- 
ating him into his political manoeuvres. He had read in La 
Bruyere and appropriated to himself that sentence so com- 
mon among politicians and non-politicians, whose distinctly 
ironical significance was completely lost upon him: “Even 
the greatest and best-intentioned ministers must have rogues 
within call ; their use is a most delicate matter, and one must 
know how to manage them ; there are occasions when they 
cannot be supplied by others. Honor, virtue, and conscience 
are always excellent qualities, but frequently useless. Of 
what use is an honest man at certain times ? ” 

The other letter was for Uncle Frasquito, also long, and 
written with a great show of mystery, assuring him he had 
exorcized the danger by dint of cunning and money, and 
promising him the complete extirpation of the mysterious 
word “ Idiot ” as soon as he should return to Madrid and 
could communicate to the lodges the commands he had re- 
ceived in Italy. This letter he signed with an assumed name 
and put no date on it whatsoever, charging him with the in- 
junction to burn it after reading, and to destroy the ashes. 
Uncle Frasquito did so in fear and trembling ; and feeling he 
might now venture out, with certain precautions, he presented 
himself that night at Currita’s house, in the group of chari- 
table workers, coughing distressingly and offering to all the 


356 


CURRITA 


ladies little pink caramels, the only remedy for the dreadful 
cough which his obstinate catarrh had left him. 

Currita did not answer Jacob’s letter; and the latter, sur- 
prised, again wrote to her, with the same result. The future 
minister now became alarmed and wrote to Butron, asking 
of him categorical explanations of this obstinate silence, 
which made him suspect some resentment on the lady’s part, 
most dangerous and unpropitious under circumstances in 
which the intimate friendship and the full purse of the 
Villamelon consorts were absolutely indispensable to him. 

In a studied tone and with paternal severity the wise 
Mentor then answered the young Telemachus, informing 
him of the present made by Mile, de Sirop to the kermis, of 
Currita’s just anger upon receiving this insult, which revealed 
the treason of the intimate friend upon whom she had con- 
ferred so many favors, and of the ferocity with which the 
social world had pounced upon the incident, commenting 
upon it and shaking their sides with laughter. The judi- 
cious Mentor concluded by saying with patronizing solicitude 
and paternal indulgence : — 

“Your levity has been great; but invent some excuse, 
return quickly, and we will try to arrange matters.” 

Jacob did not wait for the advice to be repeated, and five 
days later the young Telemachus and the sage Mentor pre- 
sented themselves in the boudoir ; that is to say, landed on 
the shores of the island of Ogygia, the enchanted retreat of 
the invulnerable Calypso. The meeting must have been 
touching, but no nymph betrayed the goddess by revealing 
what was overheard or seen in the mysterious grotto, and to 
this day it is unknown by what means the three personages 
managed to arrive at that perfect understanding which from 
henceforth all Madrid observed between them. A few days 
later, however, the daily papers published the news that the 
Marquis of Sabadell had accused of robbery in the law 
courts a certain French adventuress, whose name was Mile, 
de Sirop. It was circulated later on that the latter had dis- 
appeared, and finally whispered very sotto voce that the 


CURRITA 


357 


Marquis himself, her public accuser, had her hidden in his 
own house. No one, however, could ever confirm this in- 
comprehensible statement. 

Things were then in the same state as they were a month 
before, and Jacob only observed in Currita, with profound 
contempt on his part, that strange anomaly in woman which 
consists in being servilely submissive to the man who 
oppresses her and ferociously tyrannical with the one who 
is subject to her, — a trait not noble, to say the least, and 
one which St. Ignatius Loyola applies to the devil himself 
in the following textual words from his celebrated book, 
Exercises : — 

“The enemy is like a woman, weak by necessity and 
strong by circumstances.” 

As long as Jacob showed himself hard and despotic in his 
intimate relationship with the lady, imposing upon her in 
everything his will as law, she was always docile and sub- 
missive, ready to sacrifice herself for him and to render him 
all homage, with the humility of the heathen burning incense 
before an idol, who neither expects nor asks other recom- 
pense than to see it accepted* But when, under the circum- 
stances already mentioned, Jacob was forced to humble 
himself before her, and to show himself submissive and 
conquered, Currita instantly changed her attitude, and with- 
out at all withholding her intimate confidence, or curtailing 
the constant and always lavish favors which she showered 
upon him, nevertheless made him feel her yoke, and gave 
him to understand that she was now absolute mistress, thus 
gratifying her vanity, — the first element which controlled all 
the actions of her life and all the sentiments of her heart, — 
by presenting him to the eyes of the world, conquered, sub- 
jected, and bound like a handsome king, prisoner to the 
wheels of her chariot. 

On the other hand, no one could ever find out what Jacob 
had done in Italy. He took very good care not to tell, and 
with many diversified lies explained to every one the reasons 
for his absence, this new adventure being enveloped in the 


358 


CURRITA 


vague mystery which, as the reader must already have 
remarked, always clung to the affairs and the person of this 
historical character. It was certain, however, that he had 
seen Garibaldi at Caprera and unfolded to him a wonderful 
tale, which completely explained the disappearance of the 
papers, — no one, of course, being held responsible. The old 
farceur shrugged his shoulders upon hearing him, not even re- 
membering the documents, and deceived by Jacob’s winning 
eloquence, cordially offered him recommendatory letters to 
the Venerables of Milan and of Spain, which would remove 
from him all further suspicion. Jacob accepted them most 
gladly, and believing the danger already past, gayly spent all 
his money in excursions through Italy, losing at roulette in 
Monaco all the money he had extorted from Uncle Frasquito, 
to the very last cent. The wise Mentor’s news made him 
hasten his return to Spain, and becoming again absorbed in 
his every-day life of fashionable dissipation and aristocratic 
idleness, at times interrupted by important political periods, 
Garibaldi’s letters were completely forgotten and the fright 
that had driven him to Italy became a thing of the past : he 
in his natural waywardness and want of foresight not again 
thinking of the Masons, and supposing himself likewise to be 
forgotten by them. 

Meanwhile the Alfonsist labors were nearing an end, and 
Jacob, thinking he had dearly paid for the attainment of his 
ambition by the surrender of his papers, importuned Butron 
continually, and made himself conspicuous at all hours 
among the leading politicians of the day, in quest of a 
Cabinet portfolio, which had never really been promised 
him, but only held before his eyes as the possible price of 
his theft, in those times when the countersign had been to 
sweep within. But the hour had now come to sweep out, 
and the crafty Butron slyly raised the broom to give the 
young Telemachus the first lift, without being aware that 
another broom more powerful still had been raised at his 
own back for the same purpose. 

The ministerial combinations were already forming, and in 


CURRITA 


359 


the presence of Butron and Jacob a pretence was made of 
reserving for each of them the longed for portfolios ; but 
the young Telemachus’s back was no sooner turned than 
they told the prudent Mentor, who was the first to assent, 
that it was a risk and a discredit to the party to admit to 
the future Cabinet a crack-brained and reckless character 
like Sabadell, and that the portfolio which he expected must 
be given to Sr. Fernandez Gallego, an honest man and 
famous orator, capable of pulling a government out of the 
mire as easily as he might a cart, by only shouting energeti- 
cally into the ears of the team. 

Thus it was agreed ; but Butron now had occasion to turn 
his back, and they then said that it was foolish and ridiculous 
to waste a portfolio upon this poor, effeminate nobleman, 
who at the most should be satisfied with a diplomatic 
appointment; that the portfolio which he expected should 
be given instead to Sr. Don Eusebio Diaz de la Laguna, 
who could make use of it if not with honor at least with 
profit, the latter being a conspicuous person in Amadeo’s 
time, who, as always happens in all restorations, had gone 
bag and baggage to the Alfonsist side as soon as the dawn 
of triumph marked it, performing one of those feats which 
in the Pharisaical jargon of public men are called “political 
changes,” instead of villanies or infamies. His admission 
into the Cabinet would doubtless be a powerful lever for the 
tolerant and forgetful tendencies of the Restoration. 

Pulido had gotten wind of all these rumors and hastened 
to notify his friend of them, fearing to forfeit the dazzling 
effulgence which the latter’s Cabinet position would shed 
upon himself and friends. He therefore repaired one morn- 
ing to Butron’s house, nervous and out of humor, his index 
finger raised, and the inevitable words, “ I told you so ! ” on 
the tip of his tongue. He glided behind the mysterious 
screen which formed a redoubt in the room for the diplo- 
mat’s secrets, and found the latter plunged in profound 
meditation before some papers which evidently contained 
important state secrets, and from which he only raised his 


360 


CUKRITA 


eyes a moment to glance at the new-comer, murmuring in 
an absent-minded way : — 

“Ah! Pulido ! ” 

But Pulido, pointing the inexorable finger, as if its 
knuckles were elastic, and shaking it up and down with 
the fatal oscillation of a pendulum in motion, exclaimed in 
a tremulous accent : — 

“ You see, Pepe ! You see ! I told you so! ” 

“What?” replied Butron, with the resigned air of one 
who prepares to receive a disagreeable shock. 

“ What? ” repeated Pulido, in the same tone. “ Nothing ; 
only they are going to deprive you of the portfolio, Pepe/’ 

And still shaking his finger, he imparted to the diplomat 
his alarming news. Butron was not in the least affected. 
Was he altogether an idiot? He was well up in all these 
manoeuvres, but he held his tongue, and winked at them, 
for he had the assurance — and his vanity in fact gave it 
to him — that the future Cabinet could not do without him 
and his services. As for Sabadell, that was another matter ; 
he had formed absurd illusions which, in the future order 
of things, it was impossible to realize. Sabadell was crazy, 
and an imbecile, who had lent some fraudulent services to 
the party, but who was not made of the stuff which the 
Bestoration required for its ministers. They might do 
without a Prim, or a Serrano, but never without a Canovas 
de Castillo or a Butron. The diplomat stopped here with 
a solemn pause, and added sententiously : — 

“Every tree is of wood, but the pine is not oak, and in 
my opinion Sabadell can no more be a minister than I can 
help being one.” 

Pulido’s finger shook so rapidly as almost to run the 
risk of becoming disjointed, its oscillations revealing its 
owner’s impatience. 

“ And do you think, Pepe, that Canovas del Castillo is of 
the same opinion ? ” 

The diplomat looked at him with an air of pity and 
finally said : — 


CUKKITA 


361 


“ Listen, Pulido, my son. Believe me, I am not alto- 
gether an imbecile. Canovas does not dare take a step 
without first consulting me.” 

“ Did he consult you about proposing Sr. Diaz de la 
Laguna for the candidature ? ” 

The great Robinson was stupefied, for he was completely 
ignorant that such a candidature had been presented ; but 
it seeming to him beneath his dignity to confess ignorance, 
and yielding to his pride, which helped him to disguise every- 
thing with solemn lies and enigmatical opinions, in order to 
preserve his political reputation, he replied imperturbably : 

“ He did.” 

“Well, what then? ” 

“Then I can assure you that Laguna will not be ap- 
pointed.” And giving a sound slap with his Esau-like hand 
upon the papers strewn before him, he said solemnly, with 
a certain air of dignified reserve, which gave Pulido to 
understand that behind the screen of the redoubt was the 
screen of the diplomat’s eyebrows, guarding within his 
brow mysterious secrets which he was not permitted to 
investigate : — 

“ See here, Pulido, let us change the subject. My own 
secrets I can confide when I choose, but the secrets of 
others, never ! For your peace of mind, however, and the 
regulation of your conduct, I will tell you two things. First, 
that Antonio Canovas was conferring with me last night, 
in that same chair in which you are seated, until four o’clock 
in the morning.” The worthy Butron half rose from his 
seat, in order to give Pulido time to swallow the tremendous 
lie, and continued saying: — 

“ Secondly, Canovas, upon taking his leave, confided to 
me this project of a secret treaty with Germany,” — and he 
struck the papers he had before him, — “ and I must have 
time and solitude in which to study them.” 

Pulido felt very small before the bull-dog profile of 
Bismarck, which the diplomat’s words evoked before him, 
and recalling to mind that the eleventh commandment of 


862 


CURRITA 


God was not to meddle, he took his leave, with his finger 
very limp, timid, and expectant, but not before casting a 
furtive glance at the project of secret treaty with Germany, 
which the diplomat’s extended hand seemed to shield from 
all prying eyes. Somewhat of a suspicious nature, however, 
the idea occurred to him that this project of secret contract 
was not exactly with the German government, but with the 
depositary of Llardy, a celebrated gastronomic power, of 
the St. Jeronimo race-course; for between the diplomat’s 
hairy fingers could be seen the vignette of the renowned 
Emilio’s bills. 

Pulido was not the man, once on the track of a secret, to 
retreat before any danger or difficulty ; he went, therefore, 
straight to Llardy’s and asked if the Marquis of Butron had 
on their books any unpaid bills. Emilio, doubtless thinking 
that the gentleman had come to settle up, told him there 
were four unpaid accounts, the last of which was for the 
buffet of a ball, given three years before in honor of the 
Countess of Albornoz, and that the day before, for the hun- 
dredth time, he had remitted them all together without as 
yet having received payment for any. Pulido’s finger 
erected itself with the strength of a caterpillar; Emilio, 
amazed, heard him say twice : — 

“ I knew it ; I knew it.” 


CHAPTER XII 

At last the twenty-ninth of December of 1874 dawned, and 
at five minutes before noon of the same day the Minister of 
War, Serrano Bedoya, sprang violently out of bed, as he 
was likewise to spring twenty-four hours later from his min- 
isterial chair. A telegram from the military governor of 
Sagunto informed him that General Martinez Campos had 
proclaimed Prince Alfonso King of Spain, in the Ventas of 
Puzol, at the head of the Daban brigade. The government 


CURRITA 


363 


took alarm, and at once convened an extraordinary session 
at the War Department, arresting as a preliminary measure 
Canovas del Castillo and many other noted personages, 
among whom were Don Jose Pulido, the young Telemachus, 
and the worthy Mentor. They were temporarily locked up 
in the Saladero, the amiable intention of their jailers being 
to send them on a voyage for their health to the Philippine 
Islands, as soon as the chimerical proclamation should be 
annulled. Through the courtesy of the Governor of Madrid, 
Senor Moreno Benitez, they were assigned better lodgings a 
few hours later, in the Civil Government House. But either 
through the perfidious intrigue of friends, or the cruel fury 
of their enemies, it is a fact that the three comrades, Jacob, 
Butron, and Pulido, remained shut up in the Saladero the 
whole day of the twenty-ninth until daybreak the following 
morning, when the door of their prison was opened only to 
close before their eyes the door of their hopes. 

At a quarter past nine that same night, — the revolution- 
ary government now forever ruined, — the Captain-General 
of Madrid, Don Fernando Primo de Rivera, was invested 
with full power, and at once had the Alfonsist prisoners at 
the Civil Government House set at liberty. A Regent 
Ministry was hastily formed, of which Senor Gallego and 
Senor Laguna formed part, the young Telemachus and the 
worthy Mentor, of course, being excluded . 1 

1 The members of this first Alfonsist Cabinet under the Presidency 
of Don Antonio Canovas del Castillo, were Messrs. Castro, Cardenas, 
Jovellar, Salaverria, Marquis of Molius, Romero Robledo, Ayala, and 
the Marquis of Orovio. It seems useless for us to observe that upon 
our supposing a Senor Gallego and a Senor Laguna as forming part of 
this Cabinet, we do not, of course, allude to any of the gentlemen who 
in reality composed it. And while we are on the subject of allusions, 
it may be well to state once more, that those persons are completely 
mistaken who have thought to see in any of the characters of the 
present novel descriptions of actual personages, who doubtless were 
very little known by those who judge them, if they find resemblances 
between them. Our personages are not photographs of real individ- 
uals, but types of social characters ; and if an artist’s vanity can be 
flattered, that his creations are so realistic they cannot be conceived 


364 


CURRITA 


The latter was completely annihilated ; Jacob was furious, 
and Pulido, without strength enough to raise his finger, or 
breath enough to murmur “ I told you so,” was as dumb as 
Cassandra at the sight of Troy destroyed, and Greece tri- 
umphant. Butron snorted, Pulido groaned, and Jacob spat 
forth abuses, and between energetic harangues, bitter re- 
proaches, violent recriminations, and plans of a campaign to 
destroy this government which had swindled them, several 
days elapsed, until the Regent Ministry, somewhat relieved 
by the arrival of the young monarch, was at last able to un- 
lock its storehouse, and raising on high its bunch of nutritive 
dates, which has replaced the olive branch, ancient symbol 
of peace, began to distribute positions, honors, and destinies 
among its different allies, Butron receiving a diplomatic post 
of the highest order. 

The latter sustained an internal conflict between prudence 
on the one hand and the exactions of his dignity on the 
other; but doubtless bearing in mind that beggars must 
not be choosers, that when we cannot have what we want 
we must take what we can get, and that a bird in the hand 
is worth two in the bush, he at last departed, resigned and 
majestic, to represent the person of Alfonso XII. in a 
foreign land. A second-rate post was also given to Senor 
Pulido, and Jacob was offered a diplomatic position equal to 
that accepted by Butron. But the young Telemachus was a 
man capable in his wrath of understanding and putting into 
practice that vengeance of the Chinese, who hang themselves 
at their enemy’s door, in order to call down upon him divine 
wrath and the hatred of his fellow-men. Full of rage, he re- 
jected the offer with scorn, and imagining he could attain by 
his own efforts that which his rank had denied him, he again 
became affiliated with his old friends the revolutionists, who 
had not as yet gone over to the other side, and whose leader 
at the moment was his Excellency Martinez. They prom- 

without a living model, the delicacy, and still more the conscience, of 
an honorable writer, should scorn the idea of converting by this means 
a book written with high moral aims into a deliberate libel, 


CURRITA 


365 


ised to form a formidable opposition party the day the reign 
of Alfonso XII. should be recognized. Jacob was welcomed 
by them as a Hercules descended from heaven, to undertake 
again at their side his twelve labors upon the earth ; and at 
the moment we find him returning from Biarritz by Currita’s 
side he had already gained, with the help of this faithful 
friend, a senatorial life position, from which high tribunal 
he proposed to scale by Martinez’s side the ministerial 
Olympus, once the dreaded and eagerly looked for move was 
effected, which the cunning Apis ox was preparing with 
great secrecy. 

Madrid soon began to assume its gay winter aspect, and 
two transcendental events engaged the attention of politi- 
cians and the fashionable world : the opening of Congress, 
and the monarch’s marriage. The first promised unrivalled 
parliamentary campaigns, the second opened up vistas of 
diversions and merry-makings never before enjoyed, and 
both were discussed and even initiated in Currita’s salons, 
the centre of reunion at that time for the most conspicuous 
politicians of the future dynastic opposition, as well as for 
the most gommeux and the most poisseux of high Madrid 
society. Her Friday apres-dlners soon became famous, and 
a Cabinet was concerted at them, with the same facility that 
a marriage was disconcerted, a delegate was gained for the 
opposition, or a girl was lost. forever, ruined under the lady’s 
guardian protection, by that gallantry of some salons which 
a not easily frightened author calls “ trabajo de zapa que el 
vicio emplea para minar la virtud.” 1 

Pedro Lopez, in the Fleur-de-lis, compared Currita’s salon 
with those famous assemblies which began in the H6tel 
Rambouillet and finished with Mmes. de Stael, Rdcamier, 
Tallien, and Girardin. It is quite certain that if in the 
former were not to be found, as in the latter, the culture, 
agreeable conversation, and exquisite courtesy of those past 
times, which to-day have come to be between men and women 


1 The work of the spade which vice uses to undermine virtue. — Tr. 


366 


CURRITA 


exclusive attributes of powdered wigs and lace frills, at 
least that moral dissolving principle was not lacking which 
consists in tolerating and authorizing scandal. Now was 
seen more plainly than ever the deadly influence which is 
exercised upon a whole social community by one of those 
queens of fashion, who begin by wearing very low gowns, 
and finish by adopting very low customs, and who, by im- 
posing the yoke of their elegant extravagances, conclude by 
imposing that of their shameless vices, familiarizing even 
virtuous persons with scandal, by making it tolerable and in 
good form. The latter learn to regard without wonder, 
without a blush or a protest, spectacles such as Currita 
offered, doing the honors of her house with most elegant 
distinction by the Marquis of Sabadell’s side, whilst her 
children lay forgotten. Villamelon, already a hopeless vic- 
tim of softening of the brain, played besigue or tresillo with 
the celebrities of the moment, or tried the patience of bis 
guests, confined as in a vicious circle by his ordinary topics 
of conversation, the terro-naval combat of Black Cape, the 
marvels of his cook’s art, the advances in photography, the 
advantages of the artificial incubation of hen’s-eggs, or 
the strange constitutions of Doctor Tanner, or Succi the 
Italian, who, to his great amazement, seemed to have solved 
the problem, to him horrible and incomprehensible, of living 
without eating. 

A new scandal, planned in Currita’s house, and carried 
into effect under her very nose, perhaps also with her con- 
sent, only proved to sensible people how dangerous is the 
proximity of vice ; for even though not contaminated by it, 
one breathes at least in its atmosphere a certain poison 
which confuses and misleads, and causes one to slip and 
fall in the end. Margarita Belluga, one of the young girls 
who, upon making her first appearance in the social world, 
had principally attracted attention by her candor and inno- 
cence, suddenly disappeared one day from her parents’ 
house, to reappear again shortly afterwards in Italy, magna 
; parens artium , and mysterious refuge of the scum of crea- 


CURRITA 


367 


tion. She had eloped with Celestino Reguera, Currita’s 
accomplice in her artistic attempts, whom the lady had 
always retained by her side in order to lend a lustre to 
her court by the brilliancy of his genius, in the same 
manner that Philip maintained Aristotle ; Augustus, Virgil ; 
Charles V., Carsilaso; and Louis XIV., Moliere. 

There now ensued weeping and wailing, and gnashing of 
teeth, surprised comments and speculations ; nor were these 
lamentations merely the noise of one wave breaking upon 
the shore, for they swelled into a roar and became formid- 
able, like the boisterous sea lashing the coast. But in spite 
of the fact that everybody clearly saw which way the wind 
blew which had loosened this tempest, nevertheless only 
two of the many honorable mothers who flocked to Currita’s 
entertainments ceased to take their daughters there, and 
only one of the many proper husbands who frequented them 
withdrew his wife from this pernicious house, to which it 
had become a necessity to go, because — because pleasant 
hours were passed there ; the lady regulated in her salons 
the laws of good form, and to be admitted to her house 
was a brevet of elegance and notoriety. 

But one day a stupendous piece of news flew through 
Madrid, which at first was regarded as an absurdity invented 
by some idler of the Veloz Club; later on its likelihood was 
conceded, as it might have been that Sagasta would say 
mass, or that the Grand Turk had become a St. Bernard 
monk, and it was finally propagated as a fact, unlikely but 
certain, absurd but true, from the salons to the ante Salas 
and from the halls of Congress to the lobbies of the theatres, 
filling all the elegant world with surprise, wonder, and curi- 
osity. The ever exalted imagination of the Madrid people 
embellished the fact with interpretations and comments. 
Some saw in it a political manoeuvre, others a feminine 
piece of rivalry; several thought it a sign of reconciliation 
between the devout and the profane world, and vari- 
ous of those supposed to be best informed and most 
capable of adjusting their neighbors’ affairs saw on the 


368 


CURRITA 


contrary a dangerous snare, which the most inflexible of 
pious women had set for the most tolerant of sinners; 
a challenge from the pious calendar to the pagan mythol- 
ogy, a singular combat between the Marchioness of Villa- 
sis, who threw down the gauntlet, and the Countess of 
Albornoz, who doubtless would hasten to pick it up. 

For the fact was, that through certain privileged houses 
of high Madrid society had been circulated some very dainty 
lithographic cards, upon which the Marchioness of Villasis 
announced to her numerous friends that the doors of her 
drawing-rooms had been thrown open, and she had fixed 
as her evening at home — and here was the difficulty — 
the same evening that Currita had, — Fridays ! The news 
reached the latter’s house one Wednesday night, only the 
Duchess of Bara, Carmen Tagle, Leopoldina Pastor, and the 
Marchioness of Valdivieso being present. Some elderly 
gentlemen were playing tresillo , and from the billiard-room 
could be heard in the distance the clicks of the balls and 
cues. Currita indeed picked up the gauntlet, and, on her 
guard in a moment, evinced her surprise, with the ingen- 
uous simplicity of an innocent turtle-dove. 

“Really? How delighted I am! I suppose she must 
have invited all the novices of the Sacred Heart Convent.” 

Everybody laughed, and she, affecting to be very much 
surprised at this hilarity, continued : — 

“ But I am not joking. Believe me, I said it without any 
arriere-pensee. As Maria is so pious, and is accustomed to 
give such a devout tone to everything — ” 

“Of course,” replied the Duchess of Bara, seriously, “ and 
for that reason she must also have invited all of St. Louis’s 
congregation.” 

“ And she will surely exact of those present the certifi- 
cate of their Easter duty.” 

“ And a certificate of good morals from the parish 
priest.” 

“ How delicious! I suppose they will open the ball by 
saying the rosary.” 


CURRITA 


369 


44 The quartette from the Royal Chapel will doubtless 
play, and in the intermissions they will sing the joys of St. 
Joseph.” 

44 I should say so. The Marchioness of Villasis knows 
how to do things well, and without doubt she has asked 
a plenary indulgence from the archbishop for all her 
guests.” 

44 Well, to end the matter,” said Currita, at last interrupt- 
ing this hailstorm of ridicule, 44 what is it that this poor 
Maria proposes to do ? ” 

Here the one who had brought the news looked about 
with an air of great mystery, and the five ladies craned 
their necks and inclined their ears with the most intense 
curiosity. 

44 Well, she says — that — that she proposes to receive 
only honorable women.” 

A unanimous Ah ! pregnated with strange and signifi- 
cant inflections, escaped from all lips, and the Countess of 
Albornoz, opening her eyes innocently, said with her soft 
little voice : — 

44 Well, so far she has not invited me.” 

The ladies laughed, and all said at the same time : — 

44 Nor me ! ” 

44 Nor me! ” 

44 Nor me!” 

Leopoldina Pastor said nothing, but flushed crimson, and, 
turning quickly round, seated herself at the piano, and began 
to play furiously the old song 44 Tragala ! ” 1 

Friday night came at last, and with it the dinner hour ; 
but only thirteen of the twenty persons invited were present 
that night at the Villamelons’ table. The number was 
inauspicious ; and the Duchess of Bara, who guessed at once 
the cause of such a sudden falling off, said very softly to 
her nephew, the Duke of Bringas : — 

44 Unlucky number! What if this should be the 4 Last 
Supper ’ ? ” 

1 “Swallow it.”— T b. 

24 


370 


CURRITA 


“ Well, don’t let the r61e of Judas fall to your lot.” 

“Ah! no, indeed! I shall be faithful to Curra.” 

4 4 Why have the others deserted ? ” 

“lam sure I don’t know. There has been a clash oijiuche- 
ros , nothing more ; and Maria Villasis’s has triumphed.” 

“ I suppose because it is more delicate.” 

“ Bah ! Little nun-biscuits and heavenly bacon. I prefer 
Curra’s; it is more substantial.” 

44 What is?” 

“ Olla podrida.” 1 And the aunt and nephew began to 
laugh so heartily that they came very near choking on the con- 
somme & la regence , served in a magnificent silver service, with 
which the illustrious guests were beginning to appease their 
respective appetites. Under these ominous circumstances 
the dinner began, slow and listless. Villamelon, with lordly 
gravity and solemn aspect, retired within himself, without 
concerning himself about the German ambassadress on his 
right, or the Duchess of Bara on his left ; at every moment 
he consulted the menu printed in brilliant colors upon fine 
vellum, in the style of the ancient missals of the middle 
ages, and, not satisfied with this, asked again and again in 
prudent whispers of the man who waited upon him : — 

44 Have I been served to everything?” 

Directly opposite was Currita, the German ambassador at 
her right, and Don Juan Martinez — Apis ox, in other words 
— at her left, who, forgetting old grudges with praiseworthy 
magnanimity, was at the moment on most intimate terms 
with the lady, substituting the worthy Butron in his post of 
Mentor to the young Telemachus. Currita showered delicate 
attentions upon him, and at times spoke to him in a low voice, 
with signs of most intimate confidence. In one of these 
asides she pointed out to him mysteriously, with a rapid 
gesture, a small object upon the table. Among the thousand 
and one dainties and knick-knacks which adorned it were 
small boutonnieres of violets before each gentleman’s plate, 

1 Dish composed of a promiscuous mixture of meat and vegetables 
boiled together. — Tb. 


CURRITA 


371 


placed in diminutive crystal glasses, light and diaphanous as 
petrified air, and each having in the centre a small fleur-de- 
lis, an exquisite natural wonder, raised with great care in 
Currita’s hot-houses. With a significant smile she showed 
the Apis ox the bouquet before him, and the latter, also 
smiling, muttered between his teeth, without any protest 
from the lady : — 

“ Women are the devil.” 

Between these two principal groups which filled the two 
ends of the table, the rest of the guests were distributed : 
Lopez Moreno’s wife, who at the time was increasing her 
immense fortune by making loans at twenty per cent; the 
Marchioness of Yaldivieso, who no longer invoked Paco 
Velez’s name to bear witness to her remarks, but called upon 
one Fermin Doblado instead ; the Countess of Balsano, 
divorced from her husband and engaged in a lawsuit with 
her children ; the Duke of Bringas, denounced in court by his 
wife as a spendthrift; Don Casimiro Pantojas, ever on the 
lookout for the paulo post futurum of some Greek verb ; and 
two new deputies, innocent provincials as yet, whom the 
Countess of Albornoz, in league with Martinez, had lured to 
her banquets that she might secure them for the future 
opposition; the aesthetic Pedro Lopez, who paid for his 
cover every Friday by several columns of gelatine prose in 
the Fleur-de-lis ; and the Marquis of Sabadell, who com- 
pleted the number. The latter, upon perceiving the seven 
gaps in the number of invited guests, cast impatient glances 
at Currita, which produced upon the smouldering anger of the 
latter the effect which the wind causes upon fire, and ap- 
parently revealed in both the annoyance of seeing partly 
frustrated some plan which they had concerted. 

Currita’s chagrin in fact equalled her uneasiness, for her 
fugitive guests were indeed those who belonged to the 
healthy and virtuous part of Madrid society, whom she 
delighted in attracting to her house that she might silence 
by their example the scruples of others, just as in certain 
houses of prohibited industries, the sample of some other 


372 


CURRITA 


innocent industry is exhibited upon the door-post, in order 
to deceive the police and serve as a bait for the unwary. 
Accordingly that night were absent the Duke and Duchess 
of Astorga, who were held in great esteem by the new 
monarch and had been chosen b} r him to form part of the 
young Queen’s Court attendants ; the Count and Countess of 
Ordufia, noble figures of the old Carlist party, ever faithful 
in misfortune ; and the Marchioness of Lebrija, whose eager- 
ness to succor and preside over pious associations had 
justly gained for her the double reputation of being chari- 
table and vain. Uncle Frasquito was also missing, who, to 
Currita’s great indignation, had not even taken the trouble 
to send regrets for his non-attendance ; and Leopoldina 
Pastor, also absent, had only excused herself by a laconic 
little note, saying that a “good-for-nothing” sty had ap- 
peared on her eye, putting her horribly out of humor. The 
absence of these two last wounded Currita’s self-love more 
than any of the others, because both were like those birds 
who fly in time from the tree which is losing its foliage, to 
wing their flight to that which is beginning to blossom. 

All this frightened Currita, as it seemed to her undoubtedly 
a prearranged plan ; and while she endeavored to sustain and 
animate the flagging conversation of her guests, she at the 
same time listened attentively to what was going on outside 
the dining-room. Ordinarily on Fridays, even before the 
dinner was over, large numbers of guests already filled the 
drawing-rooms, taking possession of the tresillo and billiard 
tables, and forming gay and animated groups and circles, 
which continued until the small hours of the morning. 
Nothing could she hear upon this particular evening, and with 
increased uneasiness Currita endeavored to draw out the din- 
ner by exhausting all the resources of her genius, inserting 
between each cover little tales equivalent to the most 
piquant sauces, in order to give time for the guests to 
arrive, and so avoid the bad impression of finding the draw- 
ing-rooms empty. It was however impossible to continue 
longer the thankless task, and the dinner was at last brought 


CURRITA 373 

to a close by a mysterious scene, followed by a cleverly 
arranged theatrical coup. 

Her diminutive foot lightly touched the hoof of the Apis 
ox under the table, and they both exchanged with Jacob a 
rapid glance of intelligence, which seemed to signify : “ On 
guard'! ” Then Currita, taking the bouquet in front of 
Martinez, arranged it herself with exquisite coquetry in his 
button-hole, repeating the customary words of the Parisian 
flower girl, “Monsieur! Fleurissez votre boutonniere.” 

Jacob with perfectly assumed joviality stopped her in the 
act, by calling out from his place : — 

44 Look out, Martinez ; be careful. She is playing a trick 
on you.” 

‘ 4 A trick ? ” exclaimed Currita, quickly holding back the 
boutonniere. 

4 4 Yes, a trick,” affirmed Jacob, laughing. 44 Don’t you see, 
man, the bouquet contains a fleur-de-lis f ” 

44 Ah ! ” replied Currita, offended, 44 1 must protest indeed ! 
I persuade whom I can, but take no one by surprise. Do 
you wish the bouquet, Martinez? Yes, or no.” 

44 Ju, Ju, Ju!” growled the Apis ox, with an affirmative 
nod. 

44 You accept it, then?” asked Currita. 

44 1 do.” 

“ With all its consequences? ” 

44 With all its consequences,” repeated the Apis ox. 

And he glanced at those present with a proud, almost 
fierce look, which did not lack the Tuscan nobleness of a 
Mario, plebeian but formidable, who permitted himself to be 
caressed by feminine patricians. General applause greeted 
the declaration of the old revolutionist, and Villamelon, much 
moved, proposed a toast in honor of King Alfonso XII. 
The glasses were drained to the dregs, and Fernandito, tak- 
ing the one which Martinez had used, said solemnly : — 

44 This glass in future years will have great historic value. 
Understand, Martinez? Allow me to keep it. I wish to 
bequeath it to my children.” And tightly grasping his 


374 


CURRITA 


historical souvenir, he offered his arm to the German 
Ambassadress to escort her to the little blue parlor, where it 
was customary to serve the coffee in those gala days. Here 
Currita’s triumphs came to an end. The room was deserted, 
and through its open doors could be seen the yellow room on 
the left and the grand ball-room on the right, thrown open 
and illuminated only on Fridays ; both were deserted. In 
the first could be dimly seen, in a secluded corner, four very 
grave and stiff-necked gentlemen playing tresillo; in the 
second only the lights were reflected in the polished parquet 
of fine waxed woods, and in the colossal mirrors, giving to 
the whole place, in the midst of its magnificence, the fan- 
tastic and fearful aspect of those enchanted palaces de- 
scribed in fairy tales. The fiasco was complete, and Currita, 
stupefied, glanced instinctively at the clock of gilded bronze, 
on a mantelpiece near-by. It was already half-past ten. 

She now saw, back of her in the same little blue room, a 
very smart and elegant lady asleep in an arm-chair. In her 
hand she held a fashion plate, which had fallen negligent^ 
in her lap, while the feeble light of a large lamp, placed upon 
a tripod and screened by a shade of soft-tinted silk, shone 
full in her face. It was Izabel Mazacan, the perfidious 
Izabel, who had made up with Currita two months before, 
and was disposed to quarrel again whenever the time and 
occasion should present itself. None could be so propitious 
as the present, and pretending to be asleep in this solitude, 
she gradually opened her eyes with such a comic expression 
of fright, and such a funny start, that all present laughed. 

“Great heavens, dear! forgive me; but upon seeing 
myself alone I fell asleep.” The joke appeared to Currita in 
extremely bad taste and she answered sharply : — 

“How delicious! You were doubtless dreaming of the 
angels ? ” 

“ Something like that; yes, for I was dreaming of you.” 

Currita took good care not to ask for the interpretation of 
the dream, but the Marchioness of Valdivieso, with her 
usual want of tact, said gayly : — 


CURRITA 


375 


“ What a coincidence ! Why not tell us the dream? ” 

“Oh! it was nothing; only I thought Curra, poor dear, 
had also gone to Maria Villasis’s house.” And the sly 
Countess pronounced the “ poor dear ” with such an air of 
pity and such a jesting accent, that the commiserated one 
turned upon her furiously, saying with her innocent little 
laugh : — 

“ Well, my dear, neither sleeping nor waking would I ever 
have accused you of such a thing.” 

“Why not?” 

“Well, for two reasons; the second, because you would 
not go.” 

“And the first, because Maria Villasis would not have 
me,” said the Countess of Mazacan, bursting into a laugh, 
with all her insolence. 

“ Exactly so,” replied Currita. “ Because Leonore rejects 
me, I reject Leonore; as Mr. Simpleton Booby Idiot and 
Dumbhead would say.” 

The Countess of Mazacan was about to retort, but at this 
moment Carmen Tagle, Paco Velez, and Gorito Sardona 
came in, all very compunctious, saying they had just come 
from the opera, but that the theatre was deserted. They 
immediately thought, of course, that Monsieur tout le monde 
must be at Currita’s, it being Friday, but discovered after- 
wards that the grand complet that night was — who would 
have thought it? — at the Marchioness of Villasis’s house. 
They had come therefore full of indignation to protest, and 
to bid poor Curra good-night, for it did not seem decent for 
them to retire that night without doing so. 

Poor Curra escaped the best way she could from these 
demonstrations of compassion w^hich attacked her nerves, 
and directed her steps very hurriedly to the billiard room, 
where Jacob, the two deputies, and Martinez were conferring 
alone. They all congratulated the lady upon her clever 
arrangement and representation of the bouquet comedy, 
which would obtain widespread fame ! The following day 
the Fleur-de-lis would publish an account of it, in this way 


376 


CURRITA 


preparing the ground for the solemn declaration which very 
shortly Martinez proposed to make in the Senate. But the 
latter, before taking this last step, deemed it best first to 
sound them at the Palace on the subject. 

Currita immediately offered her services. She had been 
maid of honor since the time of Isabella II., and at the 
monarch’s marriage two months before, the new Queen had 
also been compelled to send her the Maid of Honor Cross. 
Martinez shook his large head. This was not exactly what 
he wanted, because the one upon whom he had cast his eye, 
and who as his herald should precede him to the Palace, was 
Jacob ; the latter, as a grandee of Spain, could — 

The widow of Baron Platavieja here interrupted him by 
entering the room, followed by her six daughters, amiable 
girls, who, in union with their mother, formed in quantity 
and quality the sum total of the seven capital sins, the name 
by which they were known at Court. Mother and daughters 
had also hastened, full of indignation, to protest before poor 
Curra ; and the Baroness affirmed, coram populo , that what 
the Marchioness of Villasis had done that night was nothing 
more or less than a crying shame. 

“A downright shame,” echoed the amiable Misses Plata- 
vieja, all immediately surrounding, like a swarm of butter- 
flies, the two young and unmarried deputies, with the idea 
doubtless of alighting on one of them. It was impossible 
to continue the conversation longer before these witnesses, 
and the evening passed slowly and wearily without other 
incidents. Maria Valdivieso, who was not on particularly 
good terms with her cousin, took especial pains to yawn 
with seeming unconsciousness every time the latter glanced 
her way. The German ambassadress sang, with a deplor- 
able lack of grace, a ballad which the Duchess qualified as 
having been barked; and at a quarter past twelve, when 
Pedro Lopez, after taking tea and storing away in his 
pockets a provision of sandwiches sufficient to last a week, 
now began to make the list for the chronicle of drawing- 
rooms, which the Fleur-de-lis published every Saturday, 


CURRITA 


377 


his astonished eyes could only count beneath this arched 
roof the small number of fourteen ladies. Seven belonged 
to the family of the capital sins, and the other seven divided 
among themselves the enemies of the soul, — “ the world, 
the flesh, and the devil.” 

The -Marchioness of Villasis scored a brilliant triumph, 
and the one hundred and twenty honorable women who 
assembled that night and every Friday at her house, only 
proved to the pessimists what she herself had said, at a not 
far distant period : — 

“Madrid is not a cesspool.” 

It is indeed true that the u something rotten in the State 
of Denmark” disseminates its bad odor in all directions, 
just as the emanations from a fetid pool affect the whole 
of a beautiful meadow by staining the healthful vegetation 
with the sickly hues of an invalid. 

But this something rotten, this fetid pool, ever overflow- 
ing by its own rankness and the cowardice of others, mixing 
with the pure waters and communicating to them in appear- 
ance its impurities, had now itself stagnated in the Countess 
of Albornoz’s house ; and the meadows once cleared, the 
logic of numbers put its inexorable hands dessus du panier 
of the great world and drew out only fourteen disreputable 
to one hundred and twenty honorable women. A grum- 
bling newspaper, however, made another distinct subdivision 
of the women of that day : — 

“A great many good ones. 

“A few bad ones. 

“Many, who, being in reality good, were to all appear- 
ances the contrary.” 


378 


CUKRITA 


CHAPTER XIII 

The news came with a shock, and although many tried to 
deny it, in face of the very evidence itself, their negatives 
were stranded against an official, legitimate, and authentic 
document, which had circulated the day before through all 
the houses of the nobility. It was an action of the royal 
administration of his Majesty the King, in which the chief 
majordomo of the Palace said to all the grandees of Spain : 
‘ 1 His Excellency his Majesty King Alfonso XII. — God 
save him ! — has been pleased to appoint the hour of two in 
the afternoon of the seventh of February, for the ceremony 
of conferring the hat in his Royal presence upon the fol- 
lowing grandees of Spain,” etc., etc. Among those names 
marked on the margin, by the rigorous order of written 
antiquity, all of them recalling grandeur of character, firm- 
ness of virtue, nobility of thought, and heroic deeds, in 
which Spanish history abounds, was written in full, and 
the second on the list, the name of his Excellency Senor 
Don Jacob Ponce Malgarejo, Marquis of Sabadell. The 
case was curious, and those accustomed to leave no stone 
unturned in investigating the whys and wherefores of their 
neighbors’ actions, clever connoisseurs in the subtle art of 
putting one and two together, and in scrutinizing the sim- 
plest events in their neighbors’ lives, immediately discovered 
subterranean connections between the action of the chief 
majordomo and the column which the Fleur-de-lis had pub- 
lished several days before. According to the latter, it 
was whispered that a certain personage of great importance, 
for some time retired from political life, would again return 
to the arena of combat, followed by numerous partisans, 
and holding aloft in his mighty hand, with honorable inde- 
pendence, the flag of Alfonso XII. An angelical lady, well 
known in high social circles for her genius, elegance, and 
beauty, had wrested from him at a banquet an explicit, 


CURRITA 


379 


although not public confession, of his new dynastic sym- 
pathies. A bunch of violets had been the incidental cause, 
and an angel was the instrument. Happy the athlete who 
enters the new arena under such poetic auspices ! 

The article revealed the caddish pen of Pedro Lopez, and 
the rest of the charade was easily deciphered, with only one 
slight doubt. Martinez of course was the athlete, but how 
in the name of Heaven could Currita be the angel ? Some 
one, however, solved the enigma : — 

“ Very easily. Lucifer was also an angel.” 

All were now convinced ; and murmuring tongues, taking 
upon themselves the office of public instruction, began to 
analyze the fact with keenest interest. Almost immediately 
everybody became aware of a peculiar circumstance, so to 
express it, of a purely domestic character. Jacob was only 
a Marquis consort, and his rights to the nobility came to 
him exclusively through his wife, from whom he had been 
separated for nearly twelve years. The point was discussed ; 
and it was unanimously agreed, that to make use of this 
right was on Jacob’s part nothing less than an outrage. 
This decided, the next thing to be considered was the 
diplomatic manoeuvre, which apparently united the charade 
of the Fleur-de-lis with the action of the chief majordomo 
of the Palace. After the Restoration Jacob had joined the 
Revolutionists commanded by Martinez, who so far had 
only acknowledged the new monarch at a private banquet, 
and under cover of a bunch of violets, presented by an 
angel not inscribed in the celestial hierarchy. The fact of 
the Marquis consort presenting himself at the Palace clearly 
showed that his chief, the Apis ox, had taken another step 
forward, by sending a faithful explorer to the fertile land of 
Mesopotamia. This was evident, and it was now agreed 
that the act, without ceasing to be an outrage, was at the 
same time a political manoeuvre, which, according to the 
opinion of competent judges, would unite and join hands 
in amiable intercourse, just as had already been done by 
the athlete, the angel, and the bunch of violets. 


380 


CURRITA 


A third problem now arose, as a legitimate consequence 
of the first and irremediable sequel of the second. Who 
would be the hero’s sponsor at Court? Who would have 
sufficient courage to countenance such an outrage, and run 
the risk of a future political onslaught. It was a traditional 
custom among the grandees upon whom the hat was to be 
conferred, to invite as their sponsors for the ceremony those 
other grandees who had already received the hat, and who, 
near or far, were the heads of their families. The old Duke 
of Ordaz, the prototype of honor and nobility, was the head 
of the family of Sabadell ; and it was now discovered, after 
careful investigation, that Jacob had had the presumption to 
invite him to act as his sponsor, and that the noble old 
gentleman had declined his request. The unknown sponsor 
thus remained enveloped in mystery, and became the subject 
of fruitless conjecture, until a short lithographic note, two 
days later, solved the enigma. Those most interested 
clapped their hands: — 

“ Albricias, albricias ! 

Padrino tenemos.” 

" Eureka ! Eureka ! 

The sponsor is found ! ” 

In the note was written: u The Marquis of Villamelon 
and of Paracuellar, Count of Albornoz and of Caltanazor, 
begs your Excellency to assist at the ceremony of conferring 
the hat upon his Excellency Sehor Don Jacob Tellez Ponce 
Malgarejo, Marquis of Sabadell, grandee of Spain, for whom 
he acts as sponsor, and for which ceremony his Majesty has 
appointed the seventh of February, 1878, at two o’clock in 
the afternoon, in his Majesty’s royal chamber.” The result 
exceeded all expectation, and the situation assumed, nemine 
discrepante , a third feature. Doubtless it was an outrage, 
certainly it was a political manoeuvre, and without fail it 
would end in a merry farce. 

The day dawned cloudy, with a cold, biting wind, while 
huge flakes of snow began to fall early in the afternoon, like 


CURRITA 


381 


a heavy shower of jasmines. A large landau dashed like a 
flash past the royal theatre, described a rapid semicircle 
around the Plaza de Oriente, and stopped suddenly in front 
of the Palace at the main entrance, with one of those masterly 
halts which only Tom Sickles’ powerful hand could effect, 
without alarming his horses. His ruddy face gleamed from 
the top of the box-seat, half buried in an enormous fur 
collar, while his square head was bared when Fritz, jumping 
from his seat as if impelled by a spring, opened the carriage 
door as inflexible, ready, and expert, as a bona-fide, elegant, 
and correct groom should be. A three-cornered hat with 
white, curly plumes now showed itself at the carriage door ; 
then a patent leather shoe with gold buckle, and finally a 
rounded leg in knee breeches and white silk stockings, while 
from within the carriage resounded a formidable Brerrrf 
vehement and shuddering, like the cry of one who suddenly 
plunges into an ice-cold bath. Joined to these extremities 
was a magnificent mantle of marten fur, which enveloped 
the Marquis of Villamelon, arrayed in full uniform. There 
was a slight pause, during which Fernandito tapped impa- 
tiently on the pavement, saying nervously, “Make haste.” 

The bulky head of the Apis ox next appeared, and shortly 
afterwards Martinez in person stood by Villamelon’s side, 
enveloped in his long cloak and tightly grasping his insepa- 
rable cane. A small gloved hand now placed itself in Villa- 
melon’s, and the elegant figure of the Marchioness of 
Valdivieso sprang to the ground. Another pause and more 
stamps from Fernandito, who again called out: “Make 
haste.” Then very slowly the Countess of Albornoz poked 
her little red head, adorned with a tiny black bonnet, out of 
the window, and glanced rapidly at the numerous carriages 
standing on either side of the Palace entrance. She finally 
got slowly out, glancing about her and saying, much dis- 
gusted : — 

“ So he has not come yet?” 

“ He has no idea whatsoever of formality,” replied Villa- 
melon, irritably. “I’ll wager anything he arrives late.” 


382 


CURRITA 


And at this moment, the Palace clock, as if wishing to 
increase his uneasiness, struck the quarter before two. 
Villamelon offered his arm to the Marchioness of Valdivieso, 
to escort her up the grand staircase, and Currita followed, 
leaning upon the arm of the Apis ox. Going up at the same 
time, on the other side of the balustrade which divided the 
stairway, was a stout old gentleman with a short white 
beard, conversing excitedly with another very thin old man, 
who was most elaborately arrayed. The former was plainly 
dressed in the tightly buttoned up coat and unpretentious 
uniform of a lieutenant-general, with its gala accessories. 
Upon catching sight of them, Currita quickly pressed the 
arm of the Apis ox, saying in a very low voice : — 

“Look, Martinez! There goes Gallego, the Minister of 
Grace and Justice. If he sees you, he will instantly become 
alarmed. There ! he is looking this way. How delicious ! 
No doubt but the crisis will be declared to-night in the 
Cabinet.” 

The presence of the Apis ox in fact produced a visible 
impression upon the stout old man pointed out by Currita 
as the Minister of Grace and Justice. He stopped a moment 
surprised, called the attention of his companion to them, and 
both held a brief dialogue ; he, as if mystified and uncertain, 
and the other as if amazed at his surprise. 

Things were beginning to shape themselves. Since the 
fall of Amadeo, Martinez had never set foot in the Palace, 
and his presence there at this moment, although it might be 
only as a spectator, lent to Jacob’s action a public sanction, 
which increased its importance. Martinez, looking askance 
at the Minister, expressed a desire to make his acquaintance. 
Currita did not allow him to finish : — 

“ Nothing is easier. This very moment I will present 
you. You shall see.” And acknowledging with a graceful 
bow the profound salute of the two old men, who were already 
now at the head of the stairs, she called out quickly : — 

“ Gallego! one moment! I wish to ask you a favor! I 
should like so much a simple little cross, some souvenir of 


CURRITA 


383 


Isabella II., or Charles III. One of the sons of my attorney 
at Granada is to be married, and I wish to present him with 
this little gift. He is somewhat vain and likes to wear 
trinkets. I will send you a little note to remind you. Eh, 
Gallego? ” And suddenly, as if it had just occurred to her, 
she added : — 

“Ah! I beg your pardon. Do you not know Martinez? 
Martinez, allow me to present Senor Fernandez Gallego, 
Minister of Grace and Justice, — my good friend Don Juan 
Antonio Martinez.” 

Both personages saluted each other with great courtesy, 
and Currita, with the airs of an Ursine Princess, common to 
women who play with politicians in public like puppets, 
walked between the two towards the door of the Saleta. 
Here they found Villamelon, who, nervous, frightened, and 
impatient, could not take his eyes off the staircase entrance. 

“ Curra, for Heaven’s sake, you stop at every step. 
Has Jacob come? Well, he will certainly arrive late. Go 
find a good place, and take Martinez with you. Understand 
me, Curra? With that indifferent spirit you will neither 
hear Jacob nor see me either. Go! The Palace clock has 
already struck two ! It will all be up with me, and I shall 
be left in the lurch, indeed, if he arrives late now.” And, 
late and hurried, Jacob did arrive at this moment, coming 
towards them from the end of the gallery, his white Santi- 
ago cape, which covered his picturesque uniform as a 
Maestrante of Seville, gracefully flung across his shoulder. 
Villamelon did not give him time to breathe ; he barely had 
a moment to exchange an affectionate smile with the lady, 
and a pressure of the hand with Martinez, when the impa- 
tient sponsor, pulling him by the cape, disappeared with him 
through the door of the Saleta. Here were assembled the 
grandees upon whom the hat was to be conferred, and 
those who were to act as their sponsors, forming a brilliant 
conjunction of gay and many-colored uniforms, among 
which a few dress-coats of severe and irreproachable cut 
were conspicuous. 


384 


CURRITA 


Meanwhile in the King’s antechamber the preliminaries 
for the aristocratic ceremony had begun, which was insti- 
tuted by the Emperor Charles V. when the privilege of 
keeping on their hats in the King’s presence, formerly 
common to all titles, was limited by him to only twelve 
grandees of Spain, who have since been called first class 
grandees, and who were the Dukes of Medina Sidonia, 
Alburquerque, Infantado, Alba, Frias, Medina de Rioseco, 
Escalona, Benavente, Najera, Arcos, Medinaceli, and the 
Marquis of Astorga. From that time to this, there has 
scarcely been any change in this ceremony, which it is 
customary to celebrate, like the majority of State rites, in 
the King’s antechamber. 

This room forms a vast square of severe magnificence, 
whose ceiling, painted by Maella, represents an allegory 
capable of striking terror into the hearts of all those great 
personages destined to figure in history who gaze upon it : 
Truth discovered by Time. To the right of the door of the 
Saleta which gives entrance to the antechamber, open out 
two balconies which overlook the Armory Square, and on 
the left are two doors leading to the interior rooms, while 
a screen at the opposite end directly communicated with 
the King’s Chamber. 

The whole room was tapestried in rich, dark-blue cloth, 
covered with large fleur-de-lis , and the interlaced initials A 
and B in embossed velvet. Four large portraits of Charles 
IV. and Marie Louise, Ferdinand VII. and Queen Amelie, 
filled the niches on either side of the two doors between the 
Saleta and the King’s Chamber. Along the walls, benches 
of the same tapestry were placed, broken at intervals by 
five magnificent consoles of marble and bronze, sustaining 
candelabra, and the busts of Isabella II., Francis of Assisi, 
Philip V., and Ferdinand VI. 

Between the two balconies', upon one of these consoles, 
and opposite a marble mantelpiece adorned with a colossal 
mirror, was a large bust of Charles III., covered with the 
royal mantle, and whose armor was richly chiselled. All 


CURRITA 


385 


the doors of the antechamber were thrown open, except 
that of the Saleta, and crowded together behind the curtains 
were the families and friends of the grandees, anxious to 
witness the lordly spectacle. Before the door of the King’s 
Chamber was a table covered with rich crimson velvet, and 
a large seat of honor intended for the King. 

At two o’clock exactly, the latter entered through the 
door of his chamber, followed by the chief majordomo, the 
grandee on guard, the adjutants, and grandees who had 
already received the hat. The King was dressed in the 
uniform of a captain-general and carried the three-cornered 
hat in his hand. He seated himself and covered his head ; 
the grandees covered their heads and remained standing on 
either side of the Saleta. The ceremony was about to begin. 
The Keeper of the Royal Seal, whose duty it was to attest 
the act, now threw open the large door of solid mahogany, 
saying : — 

“ Your Majesty ! — the Marquis of Benhacel ! ” 

The latter, whose family was the oldest among the 
grandees, must therefore receive the hat first. A young 
man entered the room, his right hand in that of an old 
gentleman, and his left in that of the acting majordomo. 
The young Marquis was attired in the gala uniform of an 
artillery captain, and the old gentleman, decrepit and 
bent, in that of an admiral of the navy, his breast covered 
with crosses. He was the Duke of Algar, grandfather and 
sponsor upon this occasion to the young Marquis of Benha- 
cel, about to receive the hat. The old gentleman had on 
his three-cornered hat, and the young man carried his in his 
hand, leaving exposed to view an energetic and character- 
istic Spanish head, with a somewhat sun-burned complexion, 
and brilliant black eyes, which seemed to reflect the steel 
temperament of a valiant race. 

His entrance was magnificent, and a murmur of respect- 
ful sympathy greeted the illustrious pair who appeared in 
the doorway, old age leaning upon youth, like Hope evoking 
a memory, or an allegory of Experience leading Valor by 

25 


386 


CURRITA 


the hand, to lay a sword without spot upon the steps of the 
throne. On the very threshold of the room they both made 
the first court bow ; the second was given in the centre of 
the room ; and the last when directly in front of the King. 
They then saluted the grandees to the right and left, and 
the latter immediately responded by raising their hats. The 
old Duke and the majordomo now fell back a step, leaving 
the young grandee alone in the middle of the hall. The 
King, giving a military salute, said : — 

“ Marquis of Benhacel, put on your hat and speak.” 

The Marquis at once obeyed, and addressing the King, 
delivered a brief discourse, in which, as was customary, he 
gave a vigorous sketch of the glorious history of his family, 
which originated with Fortu of Torres, who fought with 
Alonzo the Wise, and died in the Alcazar of Jerez, holding 
between his teeth his King’s flag, unable longer to sustain 
or defend it with his two mutilated hands. The voice of 
the artillery officer, timid and hesitating at first, became 
gradually stronger, as if these glorious actions found an 
echo in his heart sufficient to imitate them, and when he 
finally began to describe an episode of Trafalgar, which 
he called his family’s last feat, his voice vibrated with 
those mysterious inflections of sentiment, which always 
seem to elevate the orator to a higher sphere, lending him 
not only the faculty to persuade, and the power to move, 
but even the right to command. 

“ Gravina was dying in his chamber, and the ship Prince 
of Asturia was returning to Cadiz, stripped of her rigging, 
and under command of a man who had engaged in the 
battle, with his three sons, and was returning home with only 
one, the youngest, an inexperienced midshipman. The 
storm increased towards midnight and it became necessary 
to cut loose a mast which ill-luck held fast to the round-top 
of the vessel by a cable, causing the ship to lop over, in 
imminent danger of sinking at any moment ; three seamen 
climbed up one by one to cut the cable, and all three were 
struck down by the tempest and buried in the waves. Then 


\ 


CURRITA 


387 


this man of iron, who saw his surviving crew tremble before 
the duty of inexorable obedience, turned to the only son left 
him, the idol of his heart and last hope of a grand family, 
and said to him simply : — 

“ 1 Sir Midshipman ! it is your turn.’ 

“ The boy, with the hatchet between his teeth, climbed to 
the round top, and because Our Blessed Lady helped him, 
cut the cable.” 

In the midst of the profound silence which seals men’s lips 
and moistens their eyes when the feeling of the sublime in- 
undates the heart and makes the breast heave with sobs, 
Benhacel turned slowly towards the old Duke and added, 
pointing him out : — 

“ That boy midshipman was my grandfather ; the hero 
was his father. My own father,” he continued in a voice in 
which symptoms of tears were visible, “ also served his 
King in the Royal Navy, until the year ’68, when in the 
month of September he discarded his uniform and broke his 
sword ; I, Sire, unsheathed mine for the first time in the 
battle of Alcolea, and faithful to the traditions of my race, 
I come to offer you to-day, as grandee, what I have already 
given you as a soldier.” 

Upon saying this, he clasped the hilt of his sword with his 
right hand, everybody remarking the absence of his two 
middle fingers. A vat of powder had blown them off in 
Alcolea. 

Benhacel ceased speaking, and in the midst of a profound 
silence, the 'greatest homage which admiration and respect 
can render, he uncovered his head, bent his knee to the 
ground, and kissed the King’s hand. He then saluted the 
grandees on either side of him and, accompanied by his 
grandfather, took his place among them. The old man 
cried like a child ; one of them said : — 

“The admiral weeps, but the midshipman did not.” 

Unfortunately the ceremony did not conclude here. The 
Keeper of the Royal Seal again opened the door of the 
Saleta, and this time announced : — 


388 


CURRITA 


“ Your majesty! — the Marquis of Sabadell.” 

The farce was about to begin. Villamelon now appeared, 
solemn and imposing, his head erect, neck stiff, and body 
corpulent, leading by the hand Jacob, who embodied the 
most handsome, lordly, and elegant type of manhood which 
could be imagined. His graceful figure was arrayed in the 
scarlet cloak of the Maestrantes of Seville, with silver 
trimmings and epaulets, while crossing his breast from 
side to side was one of those wide sashes intended as a 
reward for merit and a stimulus to virtue, but used only to 
gratify vanity or adorn handsome figures. White breeches 
fitted to perfection his well formed legs, while high patent- 
leather boots and a three-cornered hat with exquisite white 
plume completed this picturesque costume. 

The preliminary ceremony over, Villamelon dropped the 
hand of his protege and fell back in a majestic but studied 
attitude, ecstatically contemplating the nostrils of Charles 
III. directly in front of him, and glancing about him from 
time to time out of the corner of his eye, saying to himself : 

4 k How everybody is staring at me ! I must look hand- 
some.” 

Jacob, left alone in the middle of the antechamber, seemed 
somewhat abashed, but upon seeing himself the object of an 
attention which he well knew was not benevolent, his pride 
and natural audacity awoke, and he glanced about him with 
a look which he strove to render haughty and serene, but 
which was only insolent and defiant. The spectators pressed 
forward behind the curtains, and Currita, in the front row, 
devoured Jacob with her eyes; Martinez by her side, crowded 
against the very door-hinges, could not see him, but listened 
with strained attention, his big head bowed, and biting the 
knob of his stick. Behind the screen, directly back of the 
King, the rustling of silk dresses could be heard, and it was 
afterwards said that the Queen had there witnessed the 
ceremony. 

The grandees craned their necks, eager to hear Jacob. 
In Benhacel’s discourse they had just seen reflected as in a 


CURRITA 


389 


mirror what a grandee should be, and what that motto of 
the ancient Hidalgos, Noblesse oblige, signifies, — not of course 
requiring that the bearer of every Castilian title shall be a 
genius, every grandee of Spain a hero, or the owner of 
every illustrious name a saint, for neither is genius in- 
herent, nor intelligence perpetuated ; heroism is not made 
of parchment, nor is sanctity a right of primogeniture. But 
it exacts and imposes, with the imperious right of a conscien- 
tious duty, the obligation of considering their nobility a 
trust as well as an honor ; that they set an example in their 
thoughts, words, actions, and manners, in order to uphold the 
dignity and the glory which such nobility represents ; that 
they throw, like Brennus the weight of the sword, or the 
weight of their intelligence, in the balance wherein the ruin 
or glory of nations oscillates, — an obligation to feel some- 
thing more than voluptuousness, love something more than 
pleasure, and know how to defend a sinking throne, as that 
of Spain in ’68, or die with a King when he is beheaded, as 
in France in ’93. 

And now, with this most noble impression so recent, which 
broadened their intelligence and moved their hearts, they 
saw in Jacob what this same nobility becomes when the 
rays of its glory are reflected in a miry pool, when vice robs 
it of its lustre and baseness soils it, when the forgetfulness 
of one’s own dignity puts it at the disposal of a Martinez, 
who makes use of it for his own ends, resting his hoof upon 
it to raise himself, and giving it from the height of his 
insolence, once his ambition is attained, the most ignomin- 
ious of all kicks, a mule’s kick. 

Jacob spoke well, for the most petted of all his conceits 
was his gift of eloquence ; he did not dare, however, con- 
fide his discourse to memory, and contented himself with 
reading it, fearing to forget some of the clever sophistries 
with which he sought to scale the large boulders closiug in 
upon him on all sides. He accordingly delivered a masterly 
address, in which many thought they detected the hoof of 
the Apis ox ; and when he ceased speaking significant looks 


390 


CURRITA 


were exchanged on all sides. The fact was established ; 
Martinez and his followers were chanting the palinode, and 
the grandee of Spain consort was the one commissioned to 
carry the news to the monarch’s ears. 

The Government partisans took alarm, and Senor Gallego, 
who wandered surreptitiously among the spectators, wrinkled 
the circumflex accent on his nose at the sight of this horde 
of hungry barbarians issuing from the devastated forests 
of the Revolution, and threatening to invade the fertile 
meadows of the existing government, which they alone cul- 
tivated. What would be the King’s attitude? All eyes 
asked this question, and it excited everybody’s curiosity 
during the reading of the discourses of the ten remaining 
grandees waiting to receive the hat with which the cere- 
mony was concluded. 

The King finally arose, and with his head covered, took 
a turn around the antechamber, conversing with and salut- 
ing all the grandees. No one breathed; the moment had 
come to know if Martinez’s petition was accepted or re- 
jected ; if it was necessary to stipulate with the invaders, 
or pursue them to the sound of cymbals and horns, as dogs 
flying with bones beyond the confines of their deserted 
forests. There was a bad sign : the King passed Villamelon 
without speaking to him, only nodding to him slightly ; he 
then stopped a long time to converse with the old Duke 
of Algar and his grandson, and finally approached Jacob, 
who was standing behind them. Throughout the room one 
could have heard the rustle of an angel’s wings, or the flight 
of death itself. The King stood still before Jacob, and 
looked at him, smiling with a certain droll malice. 

“How are you, Sabadell? And your friend Martinez? 
I have been told he is very fond of violets. Tell him there 
are some very early ones to be found at the Casa de 
Campo. I shall be there Thursday, — at four o’clock.” 
Without adding another word he turned on his heel. He 
had said enough, however, and a tremendous sigh was heard 
behind the curtain to the left, as if a heavy weight had 


CURRITA 


391 


been lifted from some overburdened breast ; it was the 
Apis ox, his Excellency Martinez, who could have snorted 
at that moment like the young men of his province in their 
explosions of joy, or have squeezed his illustrious ally, 
Currita, in his brutal arms, like a Hercules embracing an 
insect. She, unable to hide the keen joy of triumph, said 
to him suddenly : — 

44 Martinez ! you must order the uniform/’ 

A little mocking voice, which came from no one could 
ever tell where, exclaimed at her elbow : — 

44 By just turning Don Amadeo’s wrong side out, you 
will have one without extra cost.” 

The most picturesque part of the ceremony was still to 
take place, which was to be for Jacob the height of his 
triumph. The King having retired to his chamber, the 
grandees who had just received the hat left the ante- 
chamber to be presented to the King’s body-guard, by order 
of antiquity. The latter had formed on both sides of the 
double staircase, and the grandees, followed by their spon- 
sors, descended by the right side and ascended by the left, 
to the sound of the halberds of the body-guard giving the 
salute of honor. The spectators thronged the front of 
the gallery and the ground-floor of the superb staircase, 
whose dome, painted by Griaquinto, represented Spain offer- 
ing to Religion her virtues and trophies. 

When Jacob again returned to the gallery, and Currita, 
with other friends, came forward to greet him, eager to offer 
their congratulations, satisfied pride reflected in his face 
a species of vertigo, and he felt like exclaiming with the 
Nabuchodonosor of the opera: 44 Io non Re, sono Dio ! ” 

He glanced about for Martinez, and saw him about ten 
paces off, leaning upon his stick, his big head wagging, and 
his rustic smile upon his lips; he also was receiving con- 
gratulations. A group of courtiers surrounded him, squeez- 
ing and crushing each other in their efforts to shake his 
brawny fist with their daintily gloved hands, showering 
upon him at the same time their flattering speeches. The 


392 


CTJRRITA 


general who had before accompanied the Minister of Grace 
and Justice invited him most cordially to a hunting party 
at his country-seat of Pardillo. He was a grandee of Spain, 
and was known in the Palace as the “ weather-vane,” from 
always being the first to veer in the direction of a new 
minister. 

It was snowing furiously, and Fernandito, shivering and 
tired, was anxious to be off. Currita invited Martinez and 
Jacob to dinner, and both accepted; the latter, however, 
decided to return home first to change his uniform. In the 
hall-way upon the card-tray he saw a large official-looking 
document, which he picked up in passing, while Damian 
was taking off his white Santiago cape with a red cross on 
the left side. One of his high boots hurt him very much, 
and without waiting for Damian, he tried to pull it off him- 
self as soon as he entered his bedroom. He could not, 
however, get it off entirely, and with the boot half on sank 
into an arm-chair until his valet should come. The latter 
delayed, and Jacob, impatient, opened the document mean- 
while. Upon a sheet of white paper, standing out before 
his eyes, was the red seal which had formerly secured the 
outside envelope of the Masonic documents. He gazed at it 
a moment in terror. It looked to him like a drop of blood. 


CHAPTER XIV 

The following day was Carnival Sunday, and Madrid awoke 
to find the ground a mass of slush ; but with a radiant sky 
overhead, a strong north wind had swept away the clouds, 
and frozen in the corners the scraps of snow which had 
succeeded in escaping the municipal broom. The cold was 
intense, and helped laziness to keep even the earliest risers 
tucked away in the warm bed-clothes. Damian heard eight 
o’clock strike and turned over again in bed, hoping the 
Marquis would not require his services until late in the 


CURRITA 


393 


morning, as usual. A violent pull at the bell made him jump, 
startled. The Marquis rang, and in such a hurry that 
even before Damian was half dressed two other sharp pulls 
resounded throughout the house, in whose ring the valet 
seemed to detect all the symptoms of overflowing bad-humor 
and unbridled impatience. Arranging with his fingers his 
black and curly head of hair, he opened the door of the 
study abruptly, in order to make a short cut through it to 
his master’s bedroom, but stood rooted to the spot, as 
stupefied as if he had seen the sun rise in the middle of the 
night. The Marquis, already dressed, was seated at his 
writing-table, a sealed letter in his hand. 

‘ ‘ Did your Lordship call ? ” 

“I did not call; I rang three times,” exclaimed Jacob, 
angrily; but instantly controlling himself he handed the 
letter to Damian, saying to him without looking at him : — 

“ See that this letter is delivered. Take it yourself this 
very moment. If the gentleman does not live there, which 
may be the case, ask the porter for his new address, and 
deliver the letter at once.” Damian made a mute bow and 
left the room, reading the address on the letter which was 
as follows: “ Senor Don Francis Xavier Perez Cueto, — 
Calle de X — No. 10 — Third Floor — To the right.” 

Damian shrugged his shoulders, for the said Perez Cueto 
seemed to him some poor devil of a fellow, not worth the 
trouble of delivering to him a letter in person. Jacob, left 
alone, asked himself what a man can find to do in this life, 
who rises at eight o’clock in the morning. The bell of the 
parish church of St. Joseph began to ring at that moment as 
if in answer, bidding him go to mass, and Jacob then re- 
membered that he had not been since the first year of his 
marriage, fourteen years before. He felt a certain sadness 
and foreboding which afflicted him in spite of his triumphs 
of the evening before, — a presentiment which had haunted 
him from the moment the Masons had repeated their ridicu- 
lous joke, which now as then had frightened and irritated 
him, arousing in him finally his fiery and reckless activity of 


394 


CURRITA 


the moment, at the sight of this mysterious danger which he 
might already twice have put an end to, without having done 
so. He then bemoaned his imprudent apathy, and resolving 
to amend it, confessed to himself in the depths of his heart 
that — 

“ The coward 

Mourns a lost opportunity.” 

He did not, however, feel his case to be hopeless, having 
Garibaldi’s letters in his possession, which explained his 
conduct and vouched for his honor. It was true these letters 
had lost much of their influence through the death of the old 
revolutionist during that interval, and through his own delay 
in delivering them; but he was not wanting in resources, 
and with clever lies and tricks could explain all to their sat- 
isfaction. His position, moreover, would soon undergo a 
change, and would acquire great importance. 

It was the settled opinion of all, that the Apis ox would 
undoubtedly be made President of the Council, as soon as 
the existing Cabinet, already tottering, should fall; and 
then, ah ! then ! he would surely be made minister, and from 
the heights of the blue bench, once in power, could laugh 
with impunity at the jeers and menaces of the Masons. That 
night, while tossing about in his bed wide-awake, unable to 
allay his fears in spite of his reasonings, he decided not to 
neglect this time to take an active part in the third act of 
this stupid comedy of the seal. 

Garibaldi’s letters were addressed to one H°. Neptune, a 
great personage in the lodges, who, divested of his trident, 
his crown of sea- weed and symbolical three points, was re- 
duced in ordinary life to one Don Francis Xavier Perez 
Cueto, manufacturer of starch, in the environs of the Court, 
a being totally unknown to everybody ; behind which incog- 
nito, according to the opinion of many, was hidden a certain 
famous personage who lived and died conspicuously. Jacob 
was not ignorant of this, for he had had occasion to become 
acquainted with the fact, during the time of his intimate 
friendship with Count Keus. He accordingly wrote a letter 


CURRITA 


395 


to Perez Cueto, couched in very courteous but imperative 
terms, requesting of him an interview in order to confer with 
him upon a matter of great importance. In the letter he 
adhered strictly to the Masonic formula, and signed it with 
his old alias, — H°. Byron, based upon his astonishing like- 
ness to his Lordship the poet. 

Damian would require at least half an hour to go and re- 
turn from Perez Cueto’s house, and meanwhile Jacob, with 
Garibaldi’s letter before him, began to jot down upon a piece 
of paper a rough summary of the lies and plots with which 
he must prove his innocence to H°. Neptune. Damian’s 
return surprised him still employed in this task. Questioning 
him instantly with a glance, he was informed that Senor 
Perez Cueto was at home and that the letter had been 
delivered. Jacob breathed freely, as if the business was 
already on the point of being brought to a speedy close, and 
not knowing of anything to do between that and breakfast- 
time he deemed it best to go back to bed again. It was de- 
cidedly nothing less than hopeless aberration of mind for 
people to rise before midday. 

“If any letter comes for me,” he said to Damian, “call 
me at once ; if not, come in at two o’clock punctually.” 

And as no letter came, Damian entered his master’s bed- 
room at two o’clock sharp, to find his Lordship sleeping 
soundly. The latter arose in a very bad humor, dressed 
himself slowly with his accustomed elegance, and break- 
fasted frugally and without appetite, finally starting for the 
Yeloz Club, where he charged Damian to deliver to him in- 
stantly any letter or message which might come for him. 
Once at the Club his bad-humor was suddenly dissipated, 
and he began to laugh and amuse himself like a boy ; Gorito 
Sardona and Paco Velez, seated in one of the balconies, were 
worrying the passers-by with a little basket, and Jacob 
gayly joined in the sport. It was a pretty little basket 
adorned with ribbons and bells, and fastened with a cord 
just long enough to escape the heads of the passers-by. 
They threw it with all their might at the ladies, who, startled 


396 


CURRITA 


by the noise, shrank back, raising their heads quickly; if 
they were young and pretty a deluge of sweets and flowers 
were showered upon them, but if they were old and ugly, 
they poked their tongues out at them with the greatest 
insolence. 

The sport, although beneath the dignity of a future min- 
ister, was very amusing to Jacob, and he instantly ordered 
at the Mahonesa for the morrow several pounds of confetti, 
— a species of bonbon stuffed with flour, with which the 
masqueraders are pelted in the Corso de Roma. At night- 
fall, Jacob left the balcony to go to Currita’s house, where 
he had an appointment with the Apis ox, made the evening 
before. A certain famous senator recently at odds with the 
Government had requested of Martinez an interview through 
medium of the lady, who hastened to offer them her own 
table as neutral ground. With this object in view, both 
must, therefore, dine that night at the Countess of Albor- 
noz’s house, and Jacob, the spoiled child of the new party, 
must not be absent either upon this occasion from his chief’s 
side. 

The future minister started up Calle Alcala, crossed by 
the Puerta del Sol, and turned into Calle Carmen. Oppo- 
site the church of this name, a gypsy girl, grotesquely 
dressed in pink and yellow, was discordantly playing a waltz 
from the Grand Duchess . A very tall man mounted on 
stilts, which raised him to the level of the second stories, 
collected money from the balconies by playing the clarinet 
and making pirouettes, and the by-standers roared with 
laughter watching the contortions of the stilt-dancer, and 
the various grotesque masqueraders capering about in the 
mud, whirling dizzily around in time to the street-player’s 
waltz. The twilight shadows lent a dark and odious tint to 
this picture of degradation, in whic£ the filth of souls seemed 
to wallow in the filth of the streets. Jacob succeeded in 
making his way through the crowd, by keeping close to the 
church steps. All at once he stopped, surprised, and imme- 
diately concealed himself, as if frightened, behind some half- 


CURRITA 


397 


intoxicated masqueraders dancing in front of him, who were 
disguised in patch-work chintz quilts tied over their heads. 

By Jacob’s very side, going in the same direction, were 
two men, seemingly foreigners, walking arm in arm to 
avoid becoming separated in the crowd. The elder of the 
two wore a red sash which covered his shirt, and an ear- 
ring in his left ear ; the younger man was short and chubby, 
his plump face wholly smooth. Sabadell fell back, gazing 
at them with a startled look, but as if he wished to be sure 
of their identity. 

He was not left long in doubt. The elder was an Italian 
named Cassanello, whom he had met in the lodges of Milan, 
and had seen again that same year in Caprera, at Garibaldi’s 
house. The two men suddenly turned, not being able to 
make their way through the crowd ; Jacob, alarmed, instantly 
covered his face with his handkerchief, as if about to blow 
his nose, and rapidly ascending the steps of Carmel, entered 
the church. At first he could see little for the darkness, 
which was however cut in the background by a focus of 
brilliant light, in the centre of which the Blessed Sacrament 
was exposed. At the foot of the altar could be dimly seen 
a solid black mass, proceeding from which at intervals was a 
soft murmur, slow and uniform, which seemed to respond to 
another voice more energetic and pronounced, u Ora pro 
nobis ! ” 

The fugitive, bewildered, paused for a moment, with a 
certain respectful awe, similar to that of the scoffer who 
suddenly finds himself in the depths of the catacombs in the 
midst of divine service; from the street came the confused 
sounds of the waltz from the Grand Duchess and the cries 
of the rabble. He then took two steps at random, extend- 
ing his arm in order to open the door leading to Calle Mon- 
tera, and stumbled against a confessional placed near the 
door to the right. The little middle door of the latter 
immediately opened, and a very white hand in a very black 
sleeve was thrust out. Jacob recoiled a step in surprise, 
whereupon the little door again closed, and the hand dis- 


398 


CURRITA 


appeared, while a calm voice out of the depths of the dark- 
ness was heard saying : — 

“I beg yonr pardon. I thought you were coming to 
confession.” 

Jacob’s impious pride rose in rebellion at these simple 
words, and he answered brutally : — 

“That is only fit for old women.” 

The voice, without losing its serene calmness, then said 
from the darkness : — 

“ Vocavi et renuistis.” 

“ Vocavi et renuistis”? Jacob asked himself, without 
understanding the significance of the terrible words. And 
opening the door violently, a strong gust of air deafened 
him with the waltz from the Grand Duchess, completely 
extinguishing that sweet, heavenly murmur and pious cry for 
mercy, — “ Ora pro nobis ! ” 

Through out-of-the-way streets and looking behind him at 
every instant as if being pursued, he reached the Countess 
of Albornoz’s house in a very agitated frame of mind. The 
meeting with this man under existing circumstances had 
inspired in him a terror similar to that which some months 
before he had experienced upon perceiving in Uncle Fras- 
quito’s album the empty spaces formerly filled by the three 
seals. What was this cunning knave doing at the Court? 
Did his presence have anything to do with this affair of the 
Masons? Could there possibly be in all this something 
more than a stupid joke? 

Currita was enchanting that night, with her little red head 
combed a la Grecque and an odd costume of divers colors 
most befitting the capricious Carnival season. She had not 
driven that afternoon in the Prado ; the never-ending parade 
of the Carnival days annoyed her very much, subject as one 
always was to the impertinent remarks in which envy and 
insolence indulge behind the screen of a mask ! How many 
times she had listened to them before taking warning! 

She therefore stayed at home like a sensible woman, taking 
care of Fernandito, who was very weak and dispirited. That 


CURRITA 


399 


night Martinez was the first to arrive, and shortly afterwards 
came the senator, Don Vicente Cascante. Jacob had not as 
yet come, and Currita, disgusted, and imagining that every 
word uttered by the Apis ox behind Jacob’s back was an 
injustice to this dear friend, left the room impatiently to 
look for him. Jacob, as a most intimate and confidential 
friend, was accustomed at times to go to Fernandito’s bou- 
doir or apartments, and not show himself in the drawing- 
room until the dinner hour. On her way through an ante-sala 
Currita met a man-servant, who handed her a letter upon a 
silver card-tray. 

“For the Marquis of Sabadell,” he said. Currita took it 
hurriedly and looked at the envelope ; the handwriting was a 
woman’s, English style, with large and running letters, and 
underneath Jacob’s name was written, “Urgent! ” 

“ Who brought this?” she asked. 

“ Damian brought it. His Lordship has been expecting 
the letter all day, and left word when it came to leave it at 
the Club. Damian went there, but his Lordship had already 
left. He then took a cab and brought it here in all haste.” 

Currita stood for a moment thinking, and finally said : — 
“ And the Marquis has not come?” 

“Not yet, your Ladyship.” 

“Very well, I will give it to him when he arrives.” 

And with the letter in her hand she entered her boudoir, 
her brows knit, mouth puckered, and eyes stern. By the 
light of the large lamp supported by the ebony negro, she 
examined the letter on all sides ; the envelope was of very 
heavy and elegant paper, contained no crest, seal, or initial 
whatsoever, and was only lightly sealed with the glue of the 
flap. 

Currita introduced a fine marble knife beneath the latter, 
and the thick envelope without bending or breaking opened 
easily. Within was a square card such as fashionable 
women were accustomed to use for their billets-doux, the 
upper left-hand corner, which must have contained some 
crest or name being purposely torn off. In a few brief 


400 


CURRITA 


words was the following: “ The appointment which you ask 
of me compromises me greatly, but yielding to the senti- 
ments which inspire me, I will meet you to-night, between 
twelve and one o’clock, in Calle de X — No. 4 — main 
entrance — to the right. Silence and discretion. Do not 
tell the porter my name ; ask for Senora de Rosales. — N.” 

“ How delicious! ” murmured Currita, and biting her lips 
until the blood came, she read the letter twice, first seating 
herself in an arm-chair. For some time she sat very thought- 
ful, the only indications of her emotion being an almost 
imperceptible little trembling of the hand which held the 
letter, a slight contraction of the lips, and a stern expression 
in her eyes, steadily bent upon the floor. Her glance was 
no longer that of the nymph Calypso, proud and joyful, 
overflowing with gratified vanity and pleasing satisfaction, 
but was rather the jealous, furious, and wild look of the 
Medusa which Seneca describes, terrible and imposing in 
the midst of her death-like calm. Without losing an iota 
of her own calm, Currita jotted down upon a sheet of 
crested paper the address contained in the letter ; she read 
it over for the fourth time, and put it back in the envelope, 
which she resealed, holding it for a moment near the fire 
that it might thoroughly dry, and finally tossed it upon her 
pretty writing-table. She then rang for Kate. 

“ Has the Marquis of Sabadell come?” 

“ Yes, Milady, and is in the drawing-room with the 
gentlemen.” 

“On the desk there, is a letter for him; see that it is 
delivered immediately.” 

Kate picked it up and started towards the door, but the 
lady, ever cunning and astute, without allowing any one to 
see what was in progress, said in a very weak and complain- 
ing voice : — 

‘ 4 My dear, first prepare me a dose of antipirine ; I feel a 
sick-headache coming on. ” 

Kate at once complied, stirring in a glass with a dainty 
little spoon the desired dose. 


CURRITA 


401 


“ Has the letter been delivered? ” asked Currita. 

“ Your Ladyship told me to prepare the antipirine first.” 

“Well go, girl ! at once ! don’t you see urgent is written 
on the envelope ? ” 

Kate was no sooner out of the room than Currita threw 
the medicine in the fireplace, and went hurriedly to the blue 
drawing-room where Jacob was. She wished to see the im- 
pression which the reading of the letter would produce on 
him. A moment afterwards a servant presented it to him 
upon a silver tray. Jacob pounced with great eagerness 
upon it, and barely looking at the envelope, tore it open. 
Currita watched him closely, but could not detect the slight- 
est sign of pleasure or satisfaction in his countenance. She 
only remarked a great anxiety while he was reading, and 
then a deep preoccupation, which lasted during the whole 
course of the dinner. At times he gossiped long without 
ceasing for an instant, with a certain nervous excitement 
which lent brilliancy to his conversation, and alarmed 
Currita ; again he became suddenly dumb and sat dreaming 
and preoccupied, completely oblivious of what was passing 
about him. He was sadly perplexed; he knew of course 
this strange letter was H°. Neptune’s reply, for of no one 
except the latter had he requested an appointment ; but he 
could not understand the singular manner of its compilation, 
and the evident desire which it evinced of concealing all 
which could reveal its Masonic character, making it appear 
only in the nature of a gallant and mysterious appointment, 
which had already completely deceived Currita. It awakened 
in him the well grounded suspicion that the letter might con- 
ceal some snare, and his fears redoubled ; but remembering 
the ridiculous masquerades, the pomp and mystery with 
which the Masons always surround themselves, he tried to 
convince himself of that which would most favor his desires 
and banish his fears ; that it was merely a ridiculous and 
impertinent joke, which must be stopped, and that Perez 
Cueto’s letter was a crowning Carnival jest. Suddenly, in 
one of those moments of pre-occupation caused by the con- 

26 


402 


CURRITA 


flict of his ideas, he said to Don Casimiro Pantojas, who was 
seated next him : — 

“Tell me, Pantojas. What does vocavi et renuistis 
mean ? ” 

The good Don Casimiro regarded him for a moment, very 
much astonished, but pleased at being able to display his 
learning, he at once replied : — 

44 It signifies, literally, 4 1 called and you rejected me/ 
They are the words of Isaias, if I remember rightly, which 
the Lord applies to those hardened sinners who resist his 
mercy.” 

Jacob burst out laughing, and Currita asked him mali- 
ciously : — 

44 Are you thinking of making a homily on this text in the 
Senate ? ” 

44 Not I,” replied Jacob. 44 It was a homily, however, 
made to me this afternoon.” And with the addition of ludi- 
crous details, he related the scene of the confessional in the 
Church of Carmel, taking very good care not to tell the real 
motive of his entrance into the sacred place. According to 
him it had been impossible to get across Calle Carmen and 
he made a short cut through the church, that he might go 
out by the side door leading to Calle Montera. Everybody 
laughed at the priest’s mistake, and Don Vicente Cascante, 
the King’s senator, swelling pompously, said sententiously : 

44 But have you all noticed how in the midst of the absurd- 
ity of the situation, the pride and insolence of the clergy is 
ever paramount, always disposing of heavenly maxims as if 
God had given them the right. It is insufferable. I have 
said a hundred times, and will never tire repeating it, that 
the hardness and impassibility of the clergy is what is ruin- 
ing the Church in Spain.” And that he might inflame the 
zeal for the House of God which was consuming him, Don 
Vicente Cascante himself consumed the breast of a quail, 
with an expression of profound affliction. 

At eleven o’clock that night, Villamelon’s palace, curiously 
enough, seemed to be the abode of peace and quietude. The 


CURRITA 


403 


Countess had retired very early to her apartments with a 
violent headache, which had been troubling her the whole 
afternoon. The Marquis had also retired, complaining of 
excessive nausea ; and the numerous corps of servants, freed 
from all restraint and certain of not being missed, had scat- 
tered here and there throughout the numerous centres of 
amusement open in Madrid on Carnival nights to persons of 
all classes. Not all the inmates of the palace were asleep, 
however; at half-past eleven the little garden gate next to 
the sheep-fold was stealthily opened, and a black figure stole 
cautiously out into the street, locking the door on the out- 
side, and walked rapidly away with the key in its pocket. 
It was a woman in masquerade costume, who looked very 
small, in spite of her high heels, and head-dress of wide black 
ribbons in the form of a flower, which she wore to increase 
her height. She had, over a short skirt of black silk, an 
ample domino of the same color, her neck and arms com- 
pletely enveloped in a costly gray fur cape. The incognita 
rapidly crossed the various lanes, without the slightest sign 
of fear, and turned from the wide street of St. Bernard into 
the little plaza of Santo Domingo. She stopped a moment 
on the corner and glanced about her. The crowd of people 
here was still very great, — masqueraders en route to the balls, 
and passers-by and carriages crossing from one side to the 
other. On the corner of Calle Tudescos, were three cabs 
standing in line, the coachmen asleep on the box seats. The 
incognita approached the one in the middle, opened the car- 
riage door herself, and bade the coachman, who awoke with 
a start, to drive to the corner of Calle X and the boulevard 
of Becoletas ; the first was one of those vertical streets 
which terminate at Calle Serrano. 

The incognita alighted at the place mentioned, and this 
time, bidding the coachman wait, turned into Calle X, look- 
ing from one side of the street to the other, as if inspecting 
the ground. The street was very short, the left-hand side 
at that time being formed by an iron railing which enclosed 
the garden of a hotel fronting on the Becoletas boulevard, 


404 


CURRITA 


next to which was a vacant lot full of rubbish, ancl the 
corner of a house on Calle Serrano, in which was a little 
door seemingly sealed up. Across the street was the side 
fagade of a certain public building, then a sumptuous hotel, 
while the sidewalk terminated with another edifice in the 
course of construction and the corner of a house on Calle 
Serrano, which contained no door whatsoever. The incog- 
nita , in whom the reader must already have recognized the 
intrepid Currita, seemed very much perplexed. There was 
evidently no No. 4 in Calle X, there being no other house 
except the sumptuous hotel in which lived — what a coinci- 
dence! — the Countess of Mazacan herself. Could there 
possibly be a mistake in the number of the house, and 
could the owner of this costly dwelling be the author of the 
letter? This seemed to Currita very improbable, and a 
certain incident put her altogether out of doubt ; the large 
crystal door which closed in the porte-cochere at the rear 
of the hotel suddenly opened, and a carriage was driven out 
which stopped at the foot of the staircase. Neither the 
coachman nor footman was in livery, nor was there either 
coat of arms, initials or crest on the carriage. Currita’s 
practised eye immediately detected an adventure in all 
this. 

Very soon two ladies came out dressed as maids, with 
very elaborate mantillas from Manila, silk handkerchiefs on 
their heads, and masks of rose-color velvet. From a noisy 
outburst of laughter which escaped one of them upon enter- 
ing the carriage, Currita recognized Leopoldina Pastor ; and 
in the tall figure and confidant air with which she gave her 
orders to the groom she instantly divined the second to be 
none other than the Countess of Mazacan herself. The 
carriage started off and Currita again breathed freely. 
Doubtless the two friends were en route to the Royal 
Theatre intent upon some escapade. 

The lady again entered her cab, resolved to wait there 
patiently. Concealing herself as much as possible, she tried 
to make herself comfortable in a corner of the cab, gazing 


CURRITA 


405 


without ceasing out of the little window at the silent street. 
The latter, completely deserted, extended before her, rising 
in a gentle slope towards Calle Serrano, along which street, 
going and coming with a certain fantastic aspect, one could 
see, as through the lens of a magic lantern, people hurrying 
by on account of the cold, carriages conveying masquer- 
aders to the balls, and from time to time the cars passing 
with a deafening noise, which looked at a distance like 
monstrous ambulatory lanterns. Only two gas-jets gave 
light to the street; the hotel porter had locked the door, 
and the soft light of the waning moon clearly revealed 
every object. 

A distant clock struck the quarter-past twelve, and shortly 
afterwards a very tall man turned slowly into the street, 
coming from the direction of Calle Serrano ; he wore a long 
cloak and a tall hat, while both his hands were crossed 
behind his back. He looked like some wandering lunatic 
taking the fresh midnight air, perhaps a genius musing 
upon a masterpiece, or a desperado seeking the nearest tree 
upon which to hang himself by the light of the moon, or 
a lonely spot in which to put a bullet through his breast. 

Currita gazed at him with that feeling of terror which 
anything strange or mysterious inspires in us during 
the small hours of the night, and shrank more and more 
within the corner of her cab. At the very corner of Keco- 
letas the man with the long coat passed another who came 
hurriedly from that direction. Currita glanced out of the 
little window at the back, and her heart beat quickly. It 
was Jacob, elegantly muffled up in an Andalusian cape with 
red revers, and a light-colored slouch hat on his head. He 
turned the corner without noticing the cab, slowly climbed 
the sloping street, and examined the houses attentively. 
The same perplexity which had assailed Currita now also 
beset him, upon realizing there was no No. 4 ; the lady, 
speechless with anger, watched him, her hand upon the knob 
of the carriage door, as if lying in wait for the moment to 
waylay him. Jacob, tired at last of walking up and down, 


406 


CURRITA 


and beginning to think the whole thing a farce, and Perez 
Cueto’s letter a final Carnival jest, decided as a last resource 
to knock at the little barred door, the only one in the street 
save that of the hotel ; the knocks reverberated in the silence 
with a strange echoing sound which frightened Currita. 

No one replied, and Jacob, impatient, knocked at least 
three times, each time louder and louder ; he then stamped 
his foot angrily, and going on his way turned the corner 
of Calle Serrano. This was the moment selected by Currita 
to spring out of the carriage and run after Jacob, fearing 
he might find the door of the house on the other side and so 
escape her after all. Jacob, however, had not thought of 
this, and could not have done so in any case. Currita 
found him standing on the sidewalk, attentively examining 
the fagade of the house; the latter was of a modest appear- 
ance and the door was already closed. On the first floor 
was an undertaker’s establishment. The two friends met 
face to face, and notwithstanding the lady’s disguise, Jacob 
instantly recognized her ; with more surprise than disgust 
he advanced to meet her. 

“Child! What are you doing here? Why did you 
come ? ” 

She, agitated by conflicting emotions, of which anger was 
paramount, answered with bitter sarcasm : — 

“Oh! nothing at all. I only came to show you where 
to find No. 4.” 

“But how have you heard this ?” exclaimed the other, 
astonished. “ Come, come, you have been deceived.” And 
grasping her by the arm, they both again turned the corner 
of Calle X. The lady, blind with anger, now began to pour 
forth all the confused sentiments of her heart, but always 
in an insulting tone, like a volcano which casts forth all the 
matter in its bosom, forming a solid mass or torrent of lava, 
which desolates and destroys whatever crosses its path. 
Jacob tried in vain to prove his innocence; she did not give 
him time to speak, and with her slender little hands tore off 
his mask, and raised her finger-nails to his face, as if she 


CURRITA 


407 


would like to tear bis eyes out. Jacob, irritated by Perez 
Cueto’s hoax, and vexed by Currita’s reproaches’ fearing 
also to lose the latter’s friendship, for him indispensable, 
saw himself at last forced to confess to her the entire truth, 
with the object of pacifying her. He at once succeeded; 
upon hearing the name of Masons, the lady’s anger was 
instantly quenched, and in its stead she was filled with an 
almost childish terror, strange in a character of such ener- 
getic temperament. 

“ Let us go ! let us go ! For God’s sake, I beg of you, 
J acob, do not remain here. Come ! come ! ” And with an 
accent of genuine horror, looking terrified in all directions, 
she said in almost a whisper : — 

“ They are excommunicated! Don’t you know ? Excom- 
municated ! ” 

Jacob, rightly believing terror to be contagious, for he felt 
that which agitated the lady take possession of his own soul, 
tried nevertheless to soothe her. 

“ Don’t be foolish, dear, don’t be childish. Let us go, if 
you wish ; but calm yourself. Am I not with you ? Did you 
come alone ? ” 

“Yes.” 

“ On foot? What madness.” 

“ No. I have a cab waiting.” 

“Very well, I’ll see you home first, and will afterwards 
drive to my own house.” 

‘ 1 Are you armed ? ” she asked in a whisper. 

“ Yes, I have a revolver.” 

Both continued their way towards Recoletas ; she glancing 
about, filled with nervous dread, and he trying to shake off 
the uneasiness which, in spite of himself, Currita’s strange 
terror caused him, with the idea that Perez Cueto’s letter 
was a Carnival joke. Upon turning the corner, they both 
looked at each other in silence, as if the excess of their 
fright paralyzed their tongues. The carriage had disap- 
peared, and neither to right nor left could they see any signs 
of it, even at a distance. 


408 


CURRITA 


“ Had you paid him? ” asked Jacob, stupefied. And she 
clinging to him, and trembling like a leaf, answered in a 
low tone, “ No.” 

It was most strange, and Jacob felt all his uneasiness 
return with renewed force; it was impossible that the 
coachman should have gone away without being paid, 
unless some one else had obliged or bribed him to do so. 
For a moment he felt an agonizing perplexity, a real fear, 
which invaded his naturally valiant soul, making him shudder 
like a robust body in an icy blast. 

“Let us go on,” he said. 

Both continued walking, arm in arm, without uttering a 
word, crossing the boulevard diagonally to the opposite side 
of the street, as it seemed somewhat less lonely. Currita 
walked very rapidly, neither looking to right nor left; her 
eyes fixed upon the lighted street-lamps, which seemed like 
life and salvation to her, although she felt an insuperable 
terror and desire to turn back. Upon gaining the sidewalk 
she breathed more freely, and ventured to look about her. 
Everything was quiet, and only on Calle Almirante, some 
distance away, did she see a man with his hands in his 
pockets, whistling the march from Pan y Toros. Passing 
the church of San Pascuale, Currita crossed herself 
hurriedly, and Jacob pressing her arm affectionately, said 
in a mocking tone : — 

“Silly!” 

They had now reached the War Department, and here 
Currita became more tranquil, for this solitude which 
terrified her began to show some signs of life. A carriage 
drove through Calle Alcala and turned into the Prado. In 
the garden of the War Department gleamed a sentinel’s 
musket, while the voices of several men singing were heard 
very near, on the other side of the grating. This corner of the 
Department consisted of an isolated pavilion, one story high, 
with four fagades, each containing three windows. Two 
men, well dressed, but shouting and yelling like drunkards, 
turned the corner of the pavilion, colliding with Jacob and 


CURRITA 


409 


Currita under the third window. The taller of the two 
stood suddenly still, while the shorter man stepped to the 
other side of the gutter, allowing the two to pass between 
them. In an instant there was a dreadful scene. Currita felt 
that a brutal push had torn her violently from Jacob’s side; 
that another vigorous hand had pulled off the latter’s mask, 
which fell to the ground under the window, while something 
liquid and warm spurted forth as from a jet, gushing over 
her dress and hands. Terror gave her wings to fly through 
Calle Alcala, without an idea in her mind to define what had 
happened to her, or the ability to utter a cry. One, how- 
ever, doleful and agonizing, reached her ears, while another 
voice, vigorous and distressed, pierced the air lugubriously 
in the silence of the night : — 

4 4 Help ! Police ! A man dead ! ” 

Immediately afterwards a voice called three times, 
“Halt! ” and then, one after another, like cries of protest 
and menace, two shots were fired. Currita, faint and breath- 
less, clung to the railing of St. Joseph’s church ; she felt 
like turning back, then like running on. She wanted to cry 
for help, or to die then and there. She now heard the night 
watchmen’s whistles, and several windows thrown open. She 
saw a hooded man running on the opposite side of the street, 
with his pike poised, and lantern raised. 

Instinct rather than reason made her then realize the risk 
she herself ran, and again she fled through Calle Caballero 
de Gracia, without stopping an instant, scarcely breathing, 
neither seeing nor hearing, nor even thinking, until, panting 
and without knowing how, she found herself in her boudoir, 
her limbs rigid, sight wild, and eyes starting out of their 
sockets, while before her was the ebony negro, holding aloft 
the lighted lamp, as if to burn into her brain the horrible 
picture which was again revealed to her in the fearful 
immobility of his white teeth, in their sinister smile, eternal 
as the grimace of a lost soul. By the light of this lamp 
she looked at her hands, which she felt were damp and 
sticky. An intense horror thrilled through her, body and 


410 


CURRITA 


soul, while an idea at last pierced her mind, like a nail 
driven by a hammer, — that of her daughter Lili kneeling in 
the studio showing her little hands stained with her brother’s 
blood and repeating, with the gloomy vibration of a bound- 
less terror: — 

u Blood ! mamma ! Blood ! ” 


CHAPTER XV 

The authorities delayed a whole hour before coming to 
identify and carry away the body. The latter was lying 
across the sidewalk stretched at full length on its right 
side, the head resting against the base of the War Depart- 
ment pavilion beneath the second window. On the right 
breast was a large contusion, doubtless caused by the force 
of the fall, and on the left side of the neck was a tremen- 
dous dagger’s-thrust, which divided the carotid artery. A 
torrent of blood gushing from it had soaked his clothes 
and wet the ground. Lying upon the sidewalk, at the very 
corner of Recoletas and Calle Alcala, was a costly cape of 
Castor fur, also stained with blood, which no one dared 
touch until the judge arrived. The body was promptly 
identified. In the pocket was found the note received that 
evening, making the false appointment, the two letters from 
Garibaldi to H°. Neptune, and various cards upon which 
was engraven the name of the Marquis of Sabadell. This 
name was well known, and to the natural horror which every 
crime inspires was united the fright, mixed with surprise, 
with which people contemplate a fortune engulfed in the 
abyss of misfortune, or see one in power fall from the 
cushions of his carriage to an autopsy table in a hospital. 
The news flew from one end of the Court to the other, with- 
out causing a single tear to flow, but everywhere awaken- 
ing astonishment, dismay, and above all, curiosity, eager 
and rabid curiosity, if so it may be called, to know the 


CURRITA 


411 


particulars of this mysterious tragedy, more interesting 
than the lugubrious episodes of Ann Radcliffe, or the dra- 
matic adventures of Clarissa Harlowe. Several members of 
the Veloz Club hastened to the hospital to see the body, 
and all day long, at the corner of the War Department, large 
crowds of people stood gazing with a certain awful curiosity 
at the base of that window about which, even yet, the sin- 
ister shadow of crime seemed to hover. In the afternoon 
the great majority of masqueraders and people driving in 
the Prado or Recoletas avoided this spot drenched with 
blood, all taking the opposite side, and casting lingering 
and fearful looks at the second window. The newspapers 
published numerous extras, which were cried through the 
streets, and now several particulars of the crime were made 
known, and commented upon. Conspicuous among them 
was the declaration of the sentinel of the War Department. 
According to the latter, at about one o’clock in the mornijig, 
he saw through the railing on the Recoletas side, a man and 
woman pass hurriedly by, coming from the direction of the 
Castellana. They were walking arm in arm, he muffled up 
in an Andalusian cape with red revers, while she was en- 
veloped in a gray fur cape, with a black mask over her face. 
Through the railing fronting on Calle Alcala, he also saw, 
at the same time, two men coming along that street singing 
and shouting as if intoxicated; both couples crossed in 
front of the pavilion through the fa$ade overlooking Reco- 
letas, and there the sentinel lost sight of them. A few 
moments afterwards he heard, in the silence of the night, 
the sound of a falling body, and then one of those cries of 
agony which one never forgets or mistakes. He saw the 
masked woman fly desperately down Calle Alcala, while 
the two men, intoxicated before, but perfectly sober now, 
ran, one towards the Castellana, and the other in the direc- 
tion of the Plaza de Toros. The latter stumbled against 
the Cibeles fountain, and he heard a splash of water as if 
he had fallen in, but he immediately scrambled out again, 
his rapid flight soon losing him in the darkness. The sen- 


412 


CURRITA 


tinel, unable to leave his post on account of the countersign 
and the railing, climbed nevertheless upon the latter, and 
saw the man with the cape stretched at full length upon the 
ground. He now shouted for the police, called three times 
after the fugitives to halt, and finally gave the alarm by 
firing two shots from his musket. Three watchmen, an 
officer, and two soldiers from the Department immediately 
responded, hastening into the street through the little door 
of the pavilion. The man with the cape was already dead. 

It was inferred from all this that there was a woman at 
the bottom of it, and curiosity, excited to an almost morbid 
pitch, especially in high social circles, was confounded by 
the secrecy of the verbal process. It was known, however, 
that on the morning after the crime, Damian, the victim’s 
valet de chambre was arrested, and on the afternoon of the 
same day one Don Francis Xavier Perez Cueto, manufac- 
turer of starch in the suburbs of the Court, was called upon 
as a witness. Since then nothing could be gleaned from 
any exterior sign, whether judicial investigations were pro- 
gressing or not ; and it finally began to be whispered, with 
a certain apprehensive stupefaction, that the hand of the 
Masons was in it ; that Sabadell’s assassins would remain as 
unknown and as unpunished as those of his friend General 
Prim ; and that the crime of Recoletas would always be as 
mysterious a secret as that of Calle Turco. But now, most 
unexpectedly, when these whispers began to take ground, 
and to excite in everybody the terror which all hidden power 
inspires, and the indignation which every cowardly plot 
arouses, another contrary rumor was circulated, which orig- 
inated no one knew how, but which nevertheless spread on 
all sides, with every appearance of certainty, like a subter- 
ranean well which disseminates its damp filiations in every 
direction. It asserted that all this was but the result of a 
gallant intrigue, that the judge had in his possession a 
billet-doux, conceding an appointment, and also an accus- 
ing article belonging to the prime mover of the crime, a 
cape of Castor fur, marked on the inside with a black label, 


CURRITA 


413 


upon which was written in red letters, “Worth, Rue de 
la Paix, Paris.” 

Two periodicals which, according to the opinion of many, 
belonged to the Masonic sect, published violent articles 
against the Spanish tribunals, which imprison the poor man 
like a criminal, and sweep him from the streets like an 
obscene animal, while they cross their arms and close their 
eyes before the one in power, who conceals his crimes be- 
neath a shield of gold, against which the sword of Justice 
is shattered. 

The daring was so great, the audacity so incredible, that 
opinion was completely misled by these perfidious insinua- 
tions, and the finger of suspicion began to point to the 
Countess of Albornoz, the threshold of her palace being 
stared at with the same horror with which, three days 
before, the public had stared at the corner of the War 
Department; singular aberration of the public conscience, 
which God in his infinite justice sometimes permits, in order 
to punish by a calumny a real crime as yet unavenged. 

No one in Madrid held Currita responsible for Velarde’s 
blood, shed before the eyes of all through her fault; but 
now they laid at her door Sabadell’s death, of which she 
was innocent, and which she w^ould gladly have redeemed at 
the cost of any sacrifice. For the lady’s grief was in real- 
ity great, although not expansive nor obtrusive; one of 
those laconic griefs, common to energetic souls which re- 
double upon themselves in the depths of the heart, increas- 
ing in intensity like the throes of the wounded gladiator, 
who finds strength in his very agony to double the muscles 
of his body in a last attempt at a more formidable attack. 
This small, weak woman enclosed within her feeble body 
one of those energetic souls which swell at the sight of 
danger and defy it, which need no help in grief, nor accom- 
plices in crime ; she was herself sufficient unto herself, and 
shaking off the terror which had consumed her the night 
before, with the vigorous thrust of the bull who tosses far 
from him the spears which hurt and vex him, she prepared 


414 


CURRITA 


to defend herself, resolved to fight inch by inch, quietly 
and firmly, all the consequences of that horrible night. 

But first of all she must reflect and plan, prepare her 
replies and arrange her questions. Taking advantage of the 
illness of Fernandito, prostrated by one of those attacks of 
imbecility which bring with them softening of the brain, she 
took all of Monday to herself, and gave explicit orders that 
she would see no one, imagining that importunate visitors 
would at once besiege her with their indiscreet questions, 
impertinent pity, and annoying compassion, as had been the 
case at the time of Velarde’s death, — a catastrophe also 
frightful, and which, without her being able to explain why, 
appeared to her now more terrible than it had seemed at 
first. But to her great surprise the whole day passed, the 
next day also, and Wednesday likewise, without a single 
carriage stopping at her door, or a single visitor entering her 
drawing-rooms ; neither did the bear in the vestibule receive 
a single card in his waiter, nor was there the slightest mes- 
sage, or the most insignificant missive, polite, interested, 
comforting, or otherwise, left for her. She then became 
alarmed at this silence, which she could not explain, for she 
was ignorant of the rumors which had circulated ; but when 
they reached her ears, and she became aware of the fact that 
a perfidious and mysterious hand had made use of the fatal 
finding of the cape to cast the suspicion of this crime upon 
herself, she was seized in her solitude with attacks of anger, 
trembling-fits like a caged wild beast, and she resolved to 
defy the calumny to its face by a stroke of energetic 
audacity. 

Chance soon offered her a favorable opportunity. Early 
Friday morning the notice was brought her that the follow- 
ing day it would be her turn to serve the Queen, as maid of 
honor at the Palace. This notice was sent, as was custom- 
ary, by the lady who had acted as maid of honor the day 
before; and the latter, being a good woman, a simple and 
pious soul, who rejected the circulating rumors as terrible 
calumnies, hastened to do her duty by advising Currita, 


CURRITA 


415 


leaving the initiative to the latter to keep or not to keep the 
appointment at the Palace. For the first time since the 
frightful catastrophe, Currita smiled her diabolical little 
smile, a sure sign that some happy idea had entered her 
head. Her day to serve fell upon Saturday, and as a result 
of traditional custom the King and Queen would assist at the 
Salve de Atocha. Curiosity would still attract large throngs 
of people to see the new Queen, and Currita being present 
at her side in the first post of honor, it seemed to her that 
calumny’s shafts must be arrested then and there. She well 
knew the world she frequented, which forms its judgments 
and regulates its actions by those in power, and she rightly 
believed that it would be sufficient to present herself once in 
public by the Queen’s side, to make everybody silence their 
scruples and hasten to preserve her in the post of honor she 
had always held at Court. Without calling Kate, Currita 
sprang out of bed before nine o’clock and threw open a 
window to see the state of the weather. The sun shone 
brightly, not a cloud could be seen in the sky, and the morn- 
ing promised a perfect afternoon. Currita felt a sensation 
of keen joy, which seemed to her a foretaste of triumph; 
the Court carriages on account of the good weather would be 
thrown open, and after the Salve they would doubtless have 
an opportunity to see and contemplate her in her post of 
honor. She was somewhat disused, however, at the pros- 
pect of being obliged to pass through the same streets she 
had taken with Jacob on that fatal night, by the same church 
before which he had pronounced his last word, and the 
corner where she had seen him fall with a cry of agony. 
But what was she to do? Bury herself alive at the age of 
forty-five ? Allow herself, on account of sentimental 
scruples, to be robbed by calumny of prestige, of supreme 
sovereignty, and the sceptre of elegance and good form 
which, in spite of a thousand real disgraces, she had always 
held in her hand until then? 

She laughed at herself for the febrile impatience with 
which she awaited the hour to go to the Palace, for not even 


416 


CURKITA 


Lopez Moreno’s wife had felt a greater anxiety or a more 
vehement desire the day of her famous presentation at the 
Hotel Basilewsky. With redoubled care and exquisite taste, 
she selected an elegant toilet, with that study of small 
details peculiar to great geniuses, which accredits in them 
the practical knowledge of the ground they tread. She 
donned an elaborate gown of dark-blue velvet, trimmed with 
chinchilla fur, with hat and wrap to match, two black pearls 
in her ears and a shamrock upon her breast formed by three 
pearls, one being white, another black, and the third pink. 
Upon her left shoulder, fastened with a knot of pink ribbon, 
she wore the two maid-of-honor crosses, the antique red 
enamel cross of Queen Isabella, and the M of diamonds and 
rubies belonging to the new Queen Mercedes. Afterwards, 
while Kate went to fetch her a dainty lace handkerchief and 
her suede gloves, she hunted in a little box for a silver relic, 
which contained a lignum crucis. Kissing it with great 
fervor, she pressed it for an instant to her breast, closing her 
eyes and bowing her head, as if imploring something of 
Heaven with great earnestness, and finally put it away in her 
pocket as she might an amulet possessing the virtue to 
ward off some danger or injury. Upon ascending the Palace 
staircase, her heart beat and her limbs trembled, for she 
had seen two grooms whispering together and looking at 
her. But when the King’s guard at the door of the Saleta 
gave the blow with the halberd which announces the arrival 
of a grandee of Spain, Currita’s pride awoke, and armed 
with all her audacity she crossed the antechamber and 
entered the State Chamber itself, ready to begin the battle, 
expecting to find there the first lady-in-waiting and the 
gentleman-in-waiting, or perhaps everybody together. The 
room, however, was deserted, and Currita felt for a moment 
the relief of the sick person who sees a dreaded operation 
postponed an instant on account of the physician’s delay. 
She seated herself upon a bench facing the Royal Chamber 
to wait until the Queen should summon her, or until some one 
should come out, but her nervous excitement did not allow 


CURRITA 


417 


her to rest an instant ; she got up again almost immediately, 
going out upon one of the balconies overlooking the Armory 
Square. Soon afterwards she began to arrange the little 
curls upon her forehead before one of the magnificent 
mirrors, and then became aware of the magnificent portrait 
of Alfonso XII., painted by Casado, which had been hung 
there the evening before, and which stood out upon the rich, 
red silk tapestry embroidered in yellow flowers, with all the 
glory of a masterpiece. 

A quarter of an hour passed, which seemed to her a 
quarter of a century, and still standing before the portrait 
she heard the door of the Queen’s apartments open behind 
her ; turning quickly, she saw that the door had partly closed 
again, as if he who had come out had suddenly stopped. 
She then heard, without being able to distinguish the words, 
a gentle woman’s voice which seemed to speak imploringly 
as if pleading for something, and then a man’s voice, strong 
:.nd angry, who exclaimed energetically : — 

“ No ! no ! this very minute ! ” 

Currita changed color deeply, and put her hand in her 
pocket, as if seeking the lignum crucis. The door again 
opened, and the majordomo, very much overcome, came 
towards her. The lady, pretending to be still absorbed in 
the contemplation of the portrait, turned her head lightly, 
and waved her hand to him, saying in a little voice, trembling 
and uncertain in spite of herself : — 

U A magnificent portrait! I have never seen it before. 
When was it hung ? ” 

But the majordomo, without answering her question, and 
with the effort which a painful duty costs, said to her hes- 
itatingly : — 

“ The Queen excuses you from service, and has requested 
me to make known her wish that you return the maid-of- 
honor cross.” 

Currita turned rapidly half round, clenching her fists and 
throwing back her head, as if about to attack the majordomo, 
fixing upon him the gaze of her enormously wide-open eyes, 

27 


418 


CURRITA 


which reflected all the anger of one who receives a slap in 
the face, ail the despair of one who sees a last hope crumble 
to pieces, and all the cunning and impotent menace which 
characterizes the terror of the weak when annihilated by a 
stronger hand. Presently, as if the haughty woman within 
her had suddenly awakened at the contact of an ignominious 
blow, she tore both crosses from her breast, and threw them 
upon the floor. 


CHAPTER XVI 

This terrible blow did not annihilate Currita, neither did it 
arouse in her that strange sentiment of awe and irritation 
which, upon the reception of a similar blow at Loyola, had 
obliged her to feel humbled and ashamed, and to be silent. 
In Pedro Fernandez’s action she had seen the hand of God, 
which prevented her from profaning His holy house with the 
scandal of her life ; but, in the action of the majordomo she 
had only seen the King’s hand, who, for her, was not an 
idea, but a man, with whom she could struggle, and whom 
she could also conquer. But from the first instant she 
understood only too well, with the rapid perception of her 
clear understanding and great worldly experience, that she 
would in vain employ all the finesse of her ingenuity, all the 
power of her money, and all her unrivalled audacity in again 
attracting her friends about her, or in forming again that 
brilliant court which was the medula of her life, as it was 
also the medula of her vanity. Nothing influences more 
than the example of a prince, capable in itself alone of sav- 
ing or ruining the whole of society ; and the severe repulse 
given to Currita at the Palace, just, in spite of its severity, 
and whose only fault was that it came so late, would cer- 
tainly influence the whole of Madrid, and would hurl the 
illustrious lady from the height of her glory, with all the 
noise of great scandals, and all the fury with which limbs 
are torn from a fallen tree. 


CURRITA 


419 


For this reason, without considering herself conquered or 
relinquishing in the least her arduous undertaking, but 
steadily strengthening with rage and indignation, and even 
grief itself, the stubbornness of her spoiled nature, she at 
once adopted the course of all clever politicians, skilful 
strategists, and practical connoisseurs of the world and the 
human heart, — that of a prudent retreat, which would soothe 
people’s minds and give time for memories to forget, for 
investigations to cease, and for tongues to grow weary ; new 
scandals making them forget and even forgive past offences. 
She had seen so much of this ! Her opportunity, on the 
other hand, could not be better. Fernandito had reached 
the state of complete imbecility which softening of the brain 
causes, and must be taken to Paris, that some medical 
specialist might there attempt the real miracle of awakening 
a spark of intelligence in that empty cranium which never 
had emitted 'any. The journey was accordingly arranged, 
and two days previous to setting out, Currita went to the 
College of Charmartin de la Rosa to take Lili away. The 
little girl had already completed her twelfth year, and seemed 
more like an angel ready to fly than a child beginning her 
life. There was something which reminded one of heaven 
in her large blue eyes, something candid and intense, as well 
as calm and sad, which gave to her whole being a certain 
powerful and sad charm, like that which the innocent smile 
of an orphan child infuses in the soul. Her mother show- 
ered the gentlest of caresses upon her, whispering at the same 
time that she had brought very good and joyful news for her. 

“ Can you not guess what it is ? ” 

The child, with her large eyes full of tears and her cheeks 
suffused with purest blushes, said quickly : — 

“ Is my papa better? Has he made his confession? ” 

Currita was completely disconcerted, as she always was 
by the unexpected sallies of this child. Who would have 
thought she would remember her father, or be interested in 
whether they had administered, or not administered, to him 
that sacrament of which he stood so much in need? She 


420 


CURRITA 


laughed wonderingly. Bah ! It was not that ; it was some- 
thing better still,, something concerning herself, — the best 
thing that could happen to her, and what she was no doubt 
expecting. And again she wondered, for all the blood in 
Lili’s body now rushed to her face, her little hands shook 
with a nervous trembling, and she raised towards her mother 
her eyes brimming over with suppressed eagerness and the 
sweet hope of hearing what was doubtless her most fervent 
desire. Her dear little mouth opened a moment, as if to let 
her secret escape, as a flower exhales its perfume, and again 
she lowered her eyes in silence, flushing a deeper and deeper 
crimson, while an ingenuous smile hovered about her lips. 

“But, little silly! can’t you guess? Why, your school 
days are over, of course, and I have come to take you away.” 

Who would have dreamed it? Upon hearing this, the 
smile faded from the child’s lips, like a light suddenly ex- 
tinguished by a gust of wind ; she crossed her little hands in 
anguish, and gazed at her mother in terror, crying bitterly 
as if her heart was broken. 

“ But in Heaven’s name, what is the matter, my darling? ” 
exclaimed Currita, stupefied. “Why all this crying? Don’t 
you want to come with me? ” 

Lili, wiping her eyes with both little hands, said sob- 
bing : — 

“Everybody loves me here; all the sisters and the girls.” 

“But, my darling, are you not loved in your home?” 
exclaimed Currita, very seriously, and the child hesitating a 
moment answered with innocent simplicity, in words whose 
significance she doubtless could not fathom : — 

“ Paquito is not there now.” 

Currita felt a pang of anger, which speedily changed into 
profound grief, the keenest she had ever experienced in the 
depths of her heart. Her eyes filled with tears ; she drew 
the child to her, took both her hands away from her face, 
and kissing her upon the forehead, said to her tenderly : — 

“We will stop for him on the way, silly one, and we’ll all 
go to Paris together.” 


CURRITA 


421 


The little girl shook her head, slipping down out of her 
mother’s lap, and, trying to control her affliction, as if pre- 
paring for battle, said resolutely : — 

“And besides, I cannot leave here. No, no, I cannot.” 

“ But why not? You are already a little woman, and here 
there are only little girls.” 

“ There are women too.” 

“ But, my dearest child ; where are these women? ” 

“The sisters are women.” 

“You mean you wish to be a nun?” exclaimed Cur- 
rita, opening wide her eyes; and the young girl, closing 
hers and nodding energetically, answered firmly : — 

“ Yes.” 

“Ah! indeed! Very well. Now I understand,” said 
Currita very gently, with her softest intonation. “ And the 
sisters, the poor dears, as they love you so much, must have 
put this idea into your head.” 

“No, no. The sisters have never said anything to me.” 

“Then it must have been their spiritual adviser, Father 
Cifuentes.” 

“No, it was not Father Cifuentes.” 

“Well, who was it? ” 

“ Paquito.” 

“ Paquito? What an apostle! And why does he not 
become a monk ? ” 

“ That is just what I wrote him ; and I sent him the life of 
St. Stanislaus, and a little picture of St. Aloysius Gonzaga. 
But he replied that he was most unfortunate, for he had 
something very important to do in the world. I do not know 
what it can be.” 

Currita began to suspect what it might be, and turned 
very pale ; the terrible scene in her studio, when the boy had 
thrown himself upon Jacob, like a wild beast thirsty for 
blood, flashed vividly into her mind, making her tremble 
with fright, infusing into her that species of retrospective 
terror which a danger past and gone causes, awakening in 
her soul the prick of remorse and in her heart the grief of a 


422 


CURRITA 


still bleeding wound. Ah! It would not now be necessary 
for the poor boy to do this very important thing, for another 
hand, more guilty than his, had taken the initiative at the 
corner of Recoletas. Lili, without even dreaming in her an- 
gelic simplicity of the effect which these words could have 
upon her mother, continued : — 

4 4 He told me always to be very good, and never to leave 
the convent, and to pray a lot for him, and for you and 
papa, for the wrath of God was about to be discharged upon 
our house. I cried very, very much, and offered then to be 
a nun, and I told Mother Larin and Father Cifuentes.” 

44 And what did they say?” asked Currita, with white 
lips. 

“Mother Larin burst into tears.”' 

44 And the father? ” 

44 He laughed, but consoled me a great deal, and told me 
not to make any offerings until he should advise me.” 

Currita became very thoughtful and sat a long time in 
silence, gazing at the child ; suddenly she said : — 

44 Father Cifuentes thinks a great deal of you, does he 
not?” 

44 Oh, yes! he is very good, and likes me very much.” 

Again she was silent, serious and meditative, for in the 
midst of this rude upheaval of her feelings, some holy, like 
mother love, others salutary, like remorse, with which the 
grace of God stormed her soul, in order to set it afloat, she 
felt something in the depths of her soul which gradually 
began to rise, until it floated beneath the surface, and finally 
swam on top, filling and dominating her whole being. It 
was her bad angel, the fixed idea and constant thought 
which cleft her brain like a neuralgic pain, to satisfy her 
vanity and avenge her indignation by again recovering her 
old position and the brilliant court of a fashionable woman. 

She had suddenly seen an unknown road, a winding path, 
which led there in a round-about way, and she no longer 
listened to anything else, nor thought of anything else. Five 
long minutes she sat silent and motionless, apparently ar- 


CURRITA 


423 


ranging her plans. Lili, with her little hands crossed upon 
her knees and her head bent, watched her from time to time 
through her long lashes, wondering at this strange silence. 

Currita finally broke it ; this beautiful and precious little 
darling of hers had affected her, but all this was a very grave 
and serious matter, and must be thought over and decided 
slowly and quietly, and not suddenly like this, in a second. 
For the present she would leave the little girl at the convent, 
and would break her journey in order to have a talk with 
Father Cifuentes. 

Lili, upon hearing this, jumped impulsively from her chair, 
and threw herself into her mother’s arms, showering kisses 
upon her, and laughing and crying at the same time, like the 
rain and sun in an April shower. Currita was somewhat 
moved, and shed a few tears. 

“ It is nothing, my darling; you must have judgment and 
must beg of God that he will enlighten us all. And now, 
my precious child, tell Mother Larin I wish to speak to her 
a moment. Eh! darling? Only for a moment; tell her 
yourself, dear.” 

Mother Larin came in very much alarmed, fearing some 
scene, and Currita, with a pathetic gesture, threw herself 
weeping into her arms. That day was the greatest of her 
life ; at last God had granted her what she had always prayed 
for so earnestly; that her daughter should be a religious. 
True, it cut her to the heart, and might perhaps cost her her 
life to be separated from the dear little thing, but what she 
regretted was not having seven children like St. Mary Mag- 
dalene of Pazzi, that she might offer them to God one by 
one. The world was so wicked ! Mother Larin, very much 
scandalized upon seeing St. Mary Magdalene of Pazzi sud- 
denly made the mother of such a numerous family, hastened 
to protest very respectfully : — 

“ Your Ladyship doubtless means Saint Symphorosa.” 

‘ 4 Was it Saint Symphorosa? I really thought it was the 
other; as I read the 4 Christian Year’ every day, I some- 
times make some stupid blunders. But tell me, Mother 


424 


CURRITA 


Larin, do you believe my daughter will persevere, and that 
her vocation is genuine ? ” 

The mother raised her eyebrows, and with much humility 
answered : — 

“The child is of a very serious nature, and from what I 
can infer, I hope so. But it would be very much better if 
you would speak to our spiritual director on the subject.” 

“ Who is he? ” 

“Father Cifuentes.” 

“ Father Cifuentes ? Really? How delighted I am. He 
is a saint, and a man of so much wisdom and prudence.” 

“ You are indeed right; consult him and you will see.” 

“ But I do not know him. Ah! Mother Larin, will you 
not write him a little note, deux mots , as a letter of intro- 
duction? Tell him what my wishes are, what I desire for 
my children, and the good faith with which I proceed. In 
this way he will listen to me kindly. You know me well, 
Mother Larin. I am so unfortunate. Every one has such a 
false idea of me ! ” 

And Currita, convinced herself of what she said, which is 
generally the case with professional impostors, extended her 
hands and opened wide her light eyes, that Mother Larin 
might read her very soul, and concluded by bursting into a 
bitter flood of weeping, covering her face with her hand- 
kerchief. The mother very much pleased, and believing 
that this stray sheep again wished to enter the fold, tried to 
console her and promised to write that very night to Father 
Cifuentes, informing him of her intended visit. 

“ I thank you from the bottom of my heart, Mother Larin, 
and will never forget you as long as I live ! ” moaned Cur- 
rita. “ For do not imagine this affair of my poor Lili’s will 
be exempt from difficulties. Fernandito is very good, but 
nevertheless, man-like, is not as pious as we women, and 
will look upon all this in a very different light.” And now 
affectionately taking leave of the good mother, she repeated : 

“Do not forget, Mother, the essential thing. To make 
the father understand the sincerity with which I proceed in 


CURRITA 


425 


everything, and the rectitude of my intentions ! ” And then 
quickly turning back on the threshold of the room, as if 
suddenly remembering something, she said : — 

44 Ah ! Mother Larin, I had nearly forgotten! I do not 
know whether I told Lili or not, for with this news every- 
thing else has flown out of my head. I hear you are having 
a new altar made for Holy Thursday, and I wish it to be at 
my expense. I desire very much to make this offering in 
Lili’s name, and that she shall give this small tribute to the 
convent. ” 

44 Thank you, very, very much indeed, your Ladyship.” 

“Thanks? Ah! Mother Larin, what a world, what a 
world! Would to' God money was only spent in such 
things ! ” 

She entered her carriage. Really this idea must have 
come from Heaven, for it was Lili, one of God’s angels, who 
had inspired it. It was only strange it had never occurred to 
her before, for in that letter from Loyola it was clearly 
revealed in the first part, 4 4 If the Countess of Albornoz 
comes to Loyola to confess her sins and beg pardon of God 
for her follies, it will not be necessary to appoint either hour 
or day, for all are equally convenient.” And palliating the 
words in her imagination, she ruminated in this manner : — 

44 If the Countess of Albornoz goes to Loyola, that is to 
say, to Father Cifuentes, confesses her sins, and begs pardon 
of God for her follies, or what is equivalent, deceives that 
worthy man by telling him what she thinks best, and with- 
holding all she deems necessary in order to win his confi- 
dence, — in the shadow of his respectability and clinging to 
his cassock, she can enter the ranks of aristocratic devotees, 
and thus gain, rosary in hand, through the short cut of 
piety, the high position from which calumny and ingratitude 
have hurled her.” 

To do this, it was not necessary to commit a sacrilege, 
which had always terrified her, and still terrified her. She 
only wished to do what was absolutely necessary : to confess 
well, accuse herself of all her sins, and enumerate all her 


426 


CURRITA 


follies. What did it matter to her if Father Cifuentes knew 
what had even been published in the papers, and which she 
had read without a blush ? If there had been any sacrifice 
to make, or any ties to break, it would be a different thing ; 
but death and an assassin’s dagger had taken upon them- 
selves to make the sacrifice and break the ties, and there 
was no longer anything left her, nothing indeed except the 
wound in her heart, and the indignation in her soul. And 
before these two ideas which exasperated her, Jacob dead, 
and herself fallen from her pedestal, she felt her blood 
boil with grief and anger ; the first seemed to her the most 
heinous crime ever perpetrated in the universe, and the 
second a more atrocious act of tyranny than could ever be 
attributed to Nero, Tiberius, or Busiris. 

With a certain feeling of trepidation, natural and well- 
founded, she went to call upon Father Cifuentes, for the 
father had the reputation of being very shrewd. But her 
sudden decision, though a woman’s caprice, was as solid as 
a man’s resolution, and she was partly tranquillized by the 
intimate consciousness that few could outwit her in astute- 
ness and cunning. With consummate cleverness she un- 
folded her plan, beginning by expounding Lili’s vocation, 
which was the desire of her heart and sweet hope of her 
soul, and which she would support with all her strength, 
although she might have to struggle against the serious 
difficulties which Fernandito would oppose. A clever stroke, 
this last, which the sly Countess inserted now to be able to 
fall back upon and make use of it later on, to destroy the 
young girl’s holy plans, once her own object was attained. 

The Jesuit, impassive, listened to her with his hands in his 
sleeves, from time to time gazing at her with looks as sharp 
as steel, which made Currita avert her own eyes, either by 
lowering them or glancing about the room. When the lady 
ceased speaking, Father Cifuentes produced the horn snuff- 
box and green and yellow handkerchief with heraldic 
squares, saying resolutely and as if it was the most natural 
thing in the world : — 


CURRITA 


427 


u Your Ladyship’s daughter has no vocation.” 

Currita was completely stupefied and disconcerted, and 
shaking her small head stammered : — 

“ But she told me so; I believed — ” 

44 You believed wrongly, Lady Countess. The child is an 
angel, of brightest intelligence and large and upright heart, 
but she is terrified by her brother’s letters, which cut her to 
the soul, your Ladyship, to the very soul.” And the two 
little arrows in Father Cifuentes’ eyes pierced Currita’s 
forehead through and through, as if to lodge in the depths 
of her thoughts. 

44 For this reason,” continued the Jesuit, slowly, 44 the poor 
child wished to make the sacrifice of her life to secure the 
salvation of the rest, and to expiate the faults of others, for 
which she grieves as the angels of heaven grieve, bewailing 
them, but without laying the blame upon any one ; and mark 
well what I say, your Ladyship, without blaming any one.” 
The Countess lowered her eyes modestly as if not knowing 
whether or not she was the one to blame, and the father 
continued : — 

4 4 But as you must understand, this sacrifice of incalcu- 
lable price, whose idea I have encouraged for what is useful 
and meritorious in it, and because the offering alone may 
perhaps be sufficient to obtain from God what the poor 
child asks, is not a religious vocation, but an offering only, 
which in her affliction and generosity the child makes ; but, 
while God does not accept it, the true vocation does not 
exist, and I, for my part, until then can neither advise nor 
authorize it.” 

44 It seems we are only beginning the conversation,” 
thought Currita, without altogether understanding these 
subtle and mysterious allusions ; and turning over and over 
in her hands an exquisite prayer-book, which she had bought 
on purpose to show her piety to the father, she said 
modestly : — 

44 And what do you, then, believe is best to be done? ” 

44 Let God’s grace work ; perhaps he will concede her, as a 


428 


CURRITA 


reward, the vocation which as yet she does not possess ; and 
meanwhile do not take her away from the convent.” 

“Do you not think, then, that it would be well for her to 
return to her home ? ” 

Father Cifuentes opened the snuff-box, and with the im- 
passibility of a man who speaks to a deaf person, and the 
simplicity with which he would have said it is warm or cold, 
he said calmly : — 

“No, your Ladyship. The example set in it would not 
perhaps succeed in corrupting her, but it would certainly 
succeed in killing her.” 

Currita did not protest against this tremendous reproach ; 
neither was she ashamed or indignant. On the contrary, 
she took advantage of this crushing remark to attain her 
object, and said dolefully : — 

“Ah! yes, yes, Father, you are right! If you only 
knew all that has happened to my house ! and the situation 
in which I find myself ! ” And adopting the most clever 
modus operandi in the art of dissimulation, that of affecting 
ingenuousness, and disguising her intentions with simplicity 
and frankness, she truthfully related to Father Cifuentes the 
scandal of her life, Jacob’s tragic death, the calumny circu- 
lated by those invisible enemies, her helplessness to accuse 
them or defend herself in Court, and the need she had of 
some worthy person, some one authorized by his holiness 
and prestige to work for her, to pardon her real faults and 
defend her from false crimes ; some one who would offer her 
his protection and friendship, reinstating her by this action 
alone in the eyes of the world. And she did not ask this for 
herself, who deserved nothing, as she now confessed, but 
besought it through charity, pity, and compassion for her 
children. 

Currita ceased speaking, and with her head bowed, hands 
crossed, and small eyes askance, devoutly awaited the for- 
midable sermon and tremendous reproof which she believed 
would follow all this, with some violent exhortation to con- 
fession and penitence, and perhaps some few touches of hell- 


CURRITA 


429 


fire, resulting finally in that which she desired and sought 
with so much eagerness, a generous offer, noble, sincere, and 
bounteous. But Father Cifuentes, who had listened without 
blinking to all this accumulation of shame and horror, and 
who had not made the slightest gesture of amazement, dis- 
gust, compassion, or protest, produced his horn snuff-box, 
took a pinch, and said laconically: — 

“ Are you making the retreat? ” 

“ The retreat ? ” she asked, very much surprised. 

“ Yes, the retreat of St. Ignatius. The exercises began 
yesterday at the Sacred Heart Convent in the Calle Caba- 
llero de Gracia. You still have time ; they resume again 
this afternoon.” 

“I — very well — of course,” said Currita, stammering. 
u But from what I can understand, one can enter there only 
by invitation, and 1 have none.” 

“ In that case I will give you a letter of introduction to 
the Superioress, and will speak to the Marchioness of Villa- 
sis, who is the President of the Council.” 

Currita felt such a sensation of joy that she nearly be 
trayed herself. At last she had triumphed, and in spite of 
his impassibility, and notwithstanding his shrewdness, she 
had made the blessed father swallow the whole bait. 
Between the Marchioness of Villasis, the lady who boasted 
the best reputation in the Court, and Father Cifuentes, the 
priest of greatest prestige, she would make her triumphal 
entree into this assemblage of aristocratic pious women, and 
there among them, once she had taken root, would soon re- 
conquer little by little their applause and adulation, and so 
reinstate herself again in her old lost position. 

She dressed herself simply, but not without that lavish 
attention to small details which vulgar tastes depreciate, and 
which those privileged and practised in the art of dress set 
such a value on ; a modest black silk skirt, and velvet wrap 
trimmed with fur ; her mantilla, entirely thrown back from 
the shoulders, was most gracefully arranged, the lace edges 
covering part of her face, but perfectly revealing her little 


430 


CURRITA 


red locks, her characteristic feature, which, with most pru- 
dent forethought, she took good care to leave exposed, so in 
case of darkness or doubt no one might fail to recognize 
her. 

The holy exercises began at five o’clock, and at seven 
minutes past she timed well her entrance, that she might be 
seen by all. Alighting from her carriage, she entered the 
vestibule, expecting to find there some religious or portress 
of whom she could ask for the Marchioness of Villasis, or 
Father Cifuentes ; but she only saw before her a long flight 
of stairs, divided in the middle by an iron railing, which 
served as a balustrade. At the top of these, two ladies 
were whispering together, very softly, but upon seeing Cur- 
rita ascending the stairs broke off abruptly, and quickly dis- 
appeared, before the lady had time to recognize them. She 
now found herself in front of the door of the chapel, which 
was wide open ; the latter was long, wide, and vast, with a 
large door at the back, which communicated with the interior 
of the convent, and another side-door for the use of the 
people. In front was the altar, simply adorned, with several 
lights burning to right and left of the tabernacle. High 
above it was a beautiful image of the Sacred Heart, and 
hanging from the base of it, to the floor, was a long bro- 
caded curtain of red velvet, upon which was embroidered 
the words, Venite ad me omnes. On either side of the 
large door at the back were the nuns’ kneeling-stools, oc- 
cupied at the moment by the ladies of the Council. The 
Marchioness of Villasis was in the right hand corner, with 
the Duchess of Astorga by her side. 

Currita saw from the door an empty seat at the end of 
a bench, and here she knelt, making one of those hiero- 
glyphics with which certain ladies pretend to cross them- 
selves, clasping her small hands on the back of the bench in 
front of her and bowing her head most devoutly, at the 
same time taking in, out of the corner of her eye, everything 
and everybody in the chapel. Marvellous perspicacity and 
magnetic influence of a feminine congregation ! Four 


CURRITA 


431 


minutes later, there was not a single more or less pious 
soul in the vast precinct of the chapel who was not aware 
of Currita’s presence ; a few soft whispers, or furtive looks 
and signs being all that was necessary for it. A prayer- 
book or rosary accidentally falling upon the floor gave to 
the lady who dropped it an opportunity to cast a rapid 
glance about her with the greatest innocence. There she 
was, heroically bearing all these glances and guessing at 
the internal comments which accompanied them. The 
Countess of Murguia, a very sedate woman, who had dined 
innumerable Fridays at Currita’s house, and often enjoyed 
her box at the opera, was seated next to her. She was 
alarmed at this proximity and turned her head despairingly, 
squeezing up as much as possible against the other ladies 
who filled the bench, hastening to leave between herself and 
the outcast a large empty space. Currita, without losing her 
devotion, felt like tearing her eyes out. 

Shortly afterwards a lady came in with two young girls, 
evidently her daughters, and one of them, the youngest, 
knelt down by Currita in the empty space ; but her mother, 
warned no doubt by another lady, who whispered to her, 
arose promptly, touched the young girl on the shoulder and 
withdrew her from the place. Currita did not feel angry 
this time, she felt a pained and bitter sensation, until then 
unknown to her, which seemed like the grief she might feel 
at finding herself abandoned or forsaken by a loved one ; 
for the young girl had reminded her of Lili. 

Other ladies came in, the chapel was filled to its utmost, 
and the late comers squeezed in among those who had 
arrived first, no one wishing to occupy the vacant seat next 
to Currita. The latter felt this affliction increase ; it op- 
pressed and tormented her, and produced in her a silent 
irritation and bitter anger, which led her to investigate, full 
of rage, the scandals of her life, seeking and enumerating 
her shameful public actions, known to all, which had been 
tolerated, approved of, and even applauded as amiable trifles 
by this same Madrid, which had now given her the cold 


432 


CURRITA 


shoulder, throwing it all up to her, and which made her 
exclaim with most excellent logic: “Am I any worse now 
than I was before? Is it possible an anonymous calumny, 
circulated by perfidious assassins, has more effect on you, 
than this heap of mud which has bespattered your faces on 
all occasions? Oh ! what a world ! So unjust and so loath- 
some! And Lili, that angel of the Lord so pure and beau- 
tiful, how right she was to shrink from entering it ! ” 

At this thought, with the rapidity with which scenes are 
shifted in a magic comedy, the image of this Madrid so un- 
just and loathsome, which provoked her anger, was replaced 
by Lili’s celestial figure, diffusing a brilliant heavenly light, 
which illuminated and took possession of her whole under- 
standing, vividly contrasting with the heap of repulsive and 
fetid mud, the filthy and miry swamp which she had just 
evoked with such fury, by making a general examination of 
her whole life. 

It seemed to Currita that she was looking at a sewer by 
the pure and rosy light of dawn, or that she was gazing at 
the infernal regions by the light of Paradise, and she felt 
herself confounded and condemned ; for this heap of mud 
was herself, and that splendor surrounding Lili was God’s 
light, the only moral criterion, independent of miserable 
social condescensions, by which human acts should be ad- 
justed. A last feeling of pride stirred within her. 

“I am infamous, it is true! But let God judge me, and 
not man ! ” And upon raising her eyes, furious and desper- 
ate, as if to cast about her a look of proud defiance, she 
saw in front of her the image of Christ, the only Judge her 
conquered pride accepted, showing her his wounded heart, 
and saying in those words embroidered at its base, Venite 
ad me omnes. 1 A mysterious twinge rent her breast, and 
she murmured softly : — 

“ Omnes! All, all ! ” 

Meanwhile the rosary had been said, and a Jesuit father 
at this moment ascended the pulpit in order to expound 
1 “ Come all unto me.” — Tr. 


CURRITA 


433 


the meditation for that day, according to the order estab- 
lished in the Exercises of St. Ignatius. It was on the Last 
Judgment and was divided into three parts : the confusion 
of hypocrites upon seeing their hidden sins revealed ; the 
supreme shame of scandal-makers, upon seeing the public 
sins of which they had boasted the object of universal 
execration; and the justification of Providence, the clear 
manifestation of the mysterious ways ordained by God, 
always for man’s good, that omniscient network of great 
events and small incidents, of joys and sorrows, triumphs 
and defeats, pleadings and threats, rewards and punish- 
ments, which will then be revealed, and will prove in the life 
of every creature, under the search-light of that dreadful 
day, the paternal Providence of God for every human being, 
and the perfect harmony of his two great attributes, the 
most dreaded and the most desired, justice and mercy over 
each and every one of us. The Jesuit spoke with simplicity, 
clearly expounding these tremendous truths, and outlining 
at times frightful pictures which affected the imagination of 
all his listeners, touched their hearts, and prepared their 
souls for the future echo of those fearful words : — 

“ Ossa arida, audite verbum Domini! ” 1 

A profound silence reigned, like the silence of terror, and 
the Jesuit, slightly changing the thread of his discourse, 
suddenly disclosed the infinite goodness of God, the most 
consoling of all his attributes, his unbounded mercy, always 
holding out to the repentant sinner a pardon so liberal and 
so boundless that the most heinous sins are consumed in it 
like atoms. 

“ Imagine,” he said, “ a man who has reached the limit 
of crime; charge your minds with all the ignominious 
actions it is possible to conceive. See him sleep tranquilly 
in the midst of his shame, and on the brink of the grave, 
as if he no longer had a conscience, or felt remorse. But 
one day, just as in Nebuchadnezzar’s dream, a stone rolling 

1 “Dry bones, hear ye the word of the Lord !” — Tn. 

28 


434 


CURRITA 


down the mountain-side shattered into atoms the colossal 
idol with clay feet, so also an atom, wrung from God’s 
mercy by the prayers of a pure soul, will demolish without 
any apparent cause this colossal heap of evil, and will form 
in this despairing mind a tear, which, rising to the heart, 
will pass through the ways which God has ordained, until 
it reaches his dried-up eyes, gushing from them, and rolling 
down his cheeks. This tear will have revealed to him the 
truth, obtained for him pardon, and restored to him peace ! ” 

And as if this blessed tear, obtained by the prayers of 
a pure soul, was formed at this moment in a certain breast, 
and rising to this heart, gushed from the eyes with a formi- 
dable explosion of grief, the profound silence was broken by 
a sob which resounded throughout the entire chapel, making 
the Jesuit cease speaking an instant; and the ladies, pale 
and overwhelmed, glanced at each other as they saw the 
Countess of Albornoz sink down upon the kneeling-stool, 
annihilated like a grain of seed ground in a mill, biting her 
hands to control, as by a superhuman effort she did control, 
the cries, sobs, and moans of pain, which seethed within 
her breast, but which found no vent through her lips. The 
sermon came to an end, and immediately afterwards was 
intoned that exquisite hymn and pathetic cry of the repent- 
ant sinner “ Perdon, O Dios mio; ” and the numerous con- 
gregation filed out before Currita, who neither raised her 
head nor stirred, as if the shame of her whole life held her 
there bound and subject before the curious, compassionate, 
and even scornful glances of her old rivals. The chapel 
was deserted, and a lay-sister who glided about like a 
shadow, extinguished the lights one by one, the Countess 
of Albornoz neither moving from her seat nor giving signs 
of life. A pair of arms encircled her at last, in that soli- 
tude in which God alone was witness, and a voice deeply 
moved spoke to her in almost a whisper : — 

“ Curra, daughter, my carriage is below ; shall I take you 
with me ? ” 

She raised her head and fixed upon the one who thus 


CURRITA 


435 


spoke to her a stupefied and fearful look, which seemed to 
have no consciousness of reality, and which reflected as in 
two deep mirrors unbounded terror and agony. She finally 
recognized the Marchioness of Villasis, and the face of the 
sinner, crimson with shame for the first time in her life, hid 
itself upon the chaste breast of the stronger woman, stam- 
mering between sobs : — 

“Yes! yes! Take me where no one will see me; to 
Charmartin with my daughter.” 

The young girl was not surprised to see her. That after- 
noon, by the advice of Father Cifuentes, she had offered to 
God the sacrifice of her life, and was awaiting her mother, 
confident and serene, as the angels await the tears of a 
sinner. 


CHAPTER XVII 

It has been said that a beggar cavils more at things than a 
hundred lawyers ; but there is one who cavils more than a 
beggar and a hundred lawyers put together, — any lazy 
school-boy glued to a bench, with a book before him. On 
this particular day, in the study-hall of the college at Gui- 
chon, Alfonsito Tellez-Ponce, alias Tapon, found himself in 
this predicament. Full of roguishness, but with the heart 
of an angel, mischief-loving as only he knew how to be, he was 
the idol and constant temptation of his companions, the fas- 
cination and perpetual torment of his teachers. His designs, 
however, could not have been better on this morning, nor 
his intentions more upright. On the following day the rev- 
erend rector’s birthday was to be celebrated by a famous 
excursion to the country and sea-shore near Biarritz, and 
the wretched Tapon, condemned by three or four different 
sentences of punishment to perpetual seclusion, made up his 
mind, by paying strict attention for a whole day, to gain a 
general dispensation from his imprisonment, and the suspen- 


436 


CURRITA 


sion of the ten or twelve trials which, for different infrac- 
tions, breaches, and infringements of the law, awaited him 
before the prefect’s tribunal. He accordingly arose with a 
bound at the first sound of the bell, washed himself without 
spilling a drop of water, and without mishap he fell quickly 
into line and went to the chapel, where he heard mass as 
devoutly as any St. Louis Gonzaga. So far so good ; but 
upon leaving the sacred spot, the spirit of mischief turned a 
somersault within him, and without being able to help him- 
self, he pulled the boy who walked ahead of him in the orderly 
file by his coat. In the study-hall he said the daily offering 
with much devotion, filliped his neighbor to the right, from 
force of habit, threw his left-hand neighbor’s books on the 
floor, almost by a necessity of his temperament, and opened 
the top of his desk with much formality. He was about to 
begin to study, and not indiscriminately either. He had 
concluded his rhetorical studies the year before, had assisted 
at the taking of Troy and the foundation of Rome, had 
drunk with Horace in the cascades of the Tiber, admired the 
bees with Virgil, saved a republic with Cicero, and declaimed 
in the public squares of Greece with Demosthenes. During 
the present 3’ear he would devote himself to the sublime 
science of mathematics, and had already obtained by order 
of his professor, the circumference of the neighboring belfry, 
with only an error of nearly two kilometres. To-day he pro- 
posed nothing less than to determine the radius of a sphere, 
and with great diligence took out his text-book, his box of 
compasses, and the clean white paper, upon which the im- 
portant experiment was to be made. Father Bonnat, the 
study-hall inspector, glanced at him from his high tribunal, 
amazed at so much diligence, imagining he beheld the con- 
version of St. Augustine or the transformation of Saul into 
Paul. With a rapid stroke of the compass Tapon drew a 
neat and perfect circle, like a full moon. It was magnificent 
and as round as the earth ! It looked like a face, exactly 
like a face, identical with that of Mme. Dous, the shop-keeper, 
who sold sausages at the gates of Bayonne. What a coinci- 


CURRITA 


437 


dence ! Tapon marked with much dexterity two dots from 
which to take the radius with which to trace two cross 
curves, and he was confirmed in his opinion. Those two 
little dots were unquestionably the perfect image of Mme. 
Dous’s eyes, round, small and wide-awake. The likeness 
was perfect. The only thing lacking was the little bow 
on top of her head, and that no detail might be omitted, 
Tapon painted one on the upper part of the circle. He then 
drew a nose at the point where the two foiled curves should 
have crossed, sketched in a mouth with a downy upper lip, 
and finally added two ears with rings, so that in less than a 
quarter of an hour, Mme. Dous’s visage had replaced the 
circle. Satisfied with his experiment, he showed it to his 
two neighbors. A stealthy hand emerged from behind him 
and snatched out of his own hand the masterpiece. Great 
Heavens ! Tapon, frightened, turned quickly round, and 
found himself face to face with Father Bonnat. A splendid 
opportunity to present him his petition for a general 
dispensation ! 

“Is this the way you prepare your studies, Master 
Tapon?” asked the minister of justice, in a stern voice. 
And Master Tapon, overwhelmed but with much dignity, 
answered, with his hand on his breast, that it had been done 
unconsciously, in a moment of distraction, and without his 
being able to help it. 

“ Well, without your being able to help it, you will go to- 
day without dessert, and to-morrow of course without the 
picnic.” 

Tapon, crushed, burst into tears, pushed the text-book to 
the left and the box of compasses to the right, and leaning 
his head upon both hands, soon became absorbed, despite his 
tears, in the contemplation of the inkstand before him. A 
fly was crawling on the edge of it, thrusting out from time 
to time its delicate feelers, and making its dark and trans- 
parent wings vibrate with the motion of its little hind-feet. 
The fly seemed to be meditating, and the idea occurred to 
Tapon to catch it as a distraction to his grief. He moist- 


438 


CURRITA 


ened the tips of his thumb and index finger with saliva, and 
extended his hand cautiously ; the unwary fly hopped from 
the inkstand and alighted on the traitorous hand, started on 
an exploring expedition around it, and finally approached the 
fatal trap. Tapon pressed his fingers and caught it by the 
feet. The fly protested indignantly, batting its wings with a 
certain pitiful buzzing. 

“ Presa en estrecho lazo 
La codorniz sencilla 
Daba quejas al viento 
Ya tarde arrepentida.” 

“ The simple quail, 

A prisoner in a fatal trap, 

Sent up its wails to the wind, 

But too late repentant.” 

Tapon, inexorable, resolved to convert it into the instru- 
ment of his vengeance ; he took a fine piece of tissue paper 
and wrote upon it ‘ 4 Death to Father Bonnat ! ” and twist- 
ing one end of it into a sharp point, stuck it in the prisoner’s 
back, he then opened his hand and the fly spread its wings 
in flight, dragging the long tail behind it like a bird of Para- 
dise. Tapon’s delight was unbounded ; he had realized the 
theory of the messenger doves. He set to work and in less 
than ten minutes more than a dozen flies were circling 
about the room, carrying from part to part the destructive 
cry of “Death to Father Bonnat!” The sedition soon 
became universal in the vast study-hall, imitators and even 
reformers being found in abundance. One wrote upon little 
slips of red paper “ Long live liberty.” Another, more ir- 
reverent, wrote 44 Down with the Jesuits! ” and a third, the 
son of an emigrant, destroyed a box of bonbons in order to 
print upon thin blue paper the retrogressive cry of 4 4 Long 
live Charles III. ! ” 

There was a general manifestation of personal sympathies 
and political opinions, there not being one among these 
statesmen, capable of governing the country of Liliput, who 


CURRITA 


439 


did not make known his views by means of these novel mes- 
senger doves. Only Paco Lujan, bending over his desk, 
although not much engrossed in the book before him, con- 
tented himself with glancing occasionally at the flight of the 
messenger doves, smiling benevolently, but without taking 
part in the clandestine sport. Seated behind him was an 
older boy of the Malay type, with a narrow forehead and a 
sneaking expression of envy, who had had many quarrels 
with Paquito and had suffered more than once from the 
blows of his powerful fists. With much precaution he wrote 
a long sentence upon a piece of cigarette paper, fastening it 
according to the Tapon system to a very large fly, and, first 
looking suspiciously about him, threw it with all his might at 
Paco’s head. The fly soared for a moment in the air, but 
overcome by the weight of the long tail, finally alighted on 
the shoulder of the boy in front of Paquito. The latter 
laughed upon seeing it and quickly extending his hand, 
caught it by the paper. The fly spread its wings, leaving 
its vexatious appendage in the boy’s hands. The poor little 
fellow, delighted with his find, began to read the contents of 
the missive. His joy suddenly disappeared, however, and he 
became livid upon deciphering it, turning quickly half-way 
round in his seat, as if some one had applied a red-hot iron 
to him, and fixing a look of ferocious hatred and unbounded 
rage upon the inoffensive Tapon, who in a state of great 
exhilaration had just thrown into the air his sixteenth cry 
of, “ Death to Father Bonnat! ” 

Behind them both, the Malay watched with malignant 
curiosity this mute scene, which was both infantile and ter- 
rible. Paco Lujan slowly turned his head again, burying it 
in both hands as if crushed. Trembling with rage he dug 
his finger-nails into his flesh, and two tears, such as are 
rarely shed at the age of fifteen, gushed from his eyes and 
coursed down his cheeks ; anger instantly dried them as a 
drop of water is dried by the simoon of a desert. He had 
read on that slip of paper a gross jest, in which his mother’s 
name was insidiously mixed with Jacob’s, and which was 


440 


CURRITA 


signed by the son of that detested man, the same Alfonsito 
Tellez, the inoffensive Tapon, and rose-colored imp of 
Satan, as the rector of the college called him, an expression 
at one and the same time of his angelic innocence and 
naughty deviltry. What an unexpected and horrible blow ! 
The boy, accustomed from the long and silent suffering of 
his short life to hide his feelings, controlled himself again, 
swallowing his rancor and his tears. An hour afterwards, 
when the bell called the alumni to their classes, Paco Lujan 
showed no signs of having heard it, still sitting motionless 
in his seat, with his head between his hands and no other 
signs of life than the frequent nervous shudders which shook 
his whole frame. Father Bonnat thought he was asleep, 
and took his hands down from his face ; he then saw his 
flushed forehead, and his brilliant and staring eyes, and felt 
his burning hands. 

“ What is the matter, my son? Are you ill? Have you 
a fever ? ” 

“No, no, there is nothing the matter,” replied the boy, 
with a forced smile, and tearing himself brusquely away 
from the father he ran to his class-room. 

Never was there a more joyous awakening than that of 
the Guichon College boys the following morning. It was 
like the awakening of the birds, when on a May morning 
they fly from their nests at the first stroke of dawn, and 
pour forth their noisy, exhilarating, and communicative joy 
through the foliage of the trees, like a cascade of ecstatic 
trills, which move one to the soul, and awaken in one’s heart 
peace, consolation, and placid gratitude towards God. The 
joyful college band replaced on this day the severe clang- 
ing of the bells which ordinarily aroused the alumni from the 
sound sleep of childhood to involve them in the small vexa- 
tions, for them immense, of a student’s life. A hundred 
loud hurrahs for the rector at once mingled with the sounds 
of the music, and joy reigned supreme; the boisterous life 
which overflowed in these little bodies suddenly inundating 
dormitories, hallways, and the entire college, being checked 


CURRITA 


441 


only at the door of the chapel by one of those rapid changes, 
incredible in children, which prove the immense power of 
discipline, and the irresistible force which is exercised upon 
every multitude by the authority which knows how to make 
itself respected and loved. A profound silence reigned 
within the chapel ; they all heard mass devoutly, and after- 
wards breakfasted lightly. There was now a moment of 
general expectation and painful suspense. 

The prefect, the dreaded executor of severe justice, now 
came in, and called Tapon and six other unfortunates before 
him. Consternation was pictured in all faces, and while the 
guilty ones, pale and contrite, took their places to the left, 
there was noticeable among the others that excitement which 
is always the precursor in great multitudes of either heroic 
or desperate resolutions. A plump little fellow now ad- 
vanced from the lines and, red as a beet, approached the 
rector, who had just entered the room, and said to him with 
heroic magnanimity : — 

“Please let the boys off, reverend Father, and let them 
go to the picnic ; I will stay in their places.” 

An exclamation of enthusiasm greeted the self-abnegation 
of the hero, and the rector, extending his hand with an im- 
posing gesture, said gravely : — 

“ You, sir lawyer of lost cases, will go to the picnic this 
very minute; and these seven young gentlemen will leave 
my sight instantly — ” Here the rector raised his hand as 
if about to inflict the avenging blow of justice, and continued 
with extreme severity, “ — by going to the picnic also.” 

The rector’s severity then melted in a happy burst of 
laughter, and a deafening chorus of bravos greeted the proc- 
lamation. Caps were thrown enthusiastically into the air, 
while the pardoned culprits and the generous intercessor 
were carried away in triumph with fraternal affection. They 
all began their march across the flowery meadows and green 
fields, through dense forests, and by picturesque little 
country houses, surrounded by gardens which were dotted 
along the entire route from Guichon to the sea; the latter, 


442 


CURRITA 


lying behind Biarritz, dashed with fury against the rocks, 
menacing and imposing beneath its limpid blue surface and 
undulating motion, like an expression of terrible anger upon 
the face of a serene divinity. 

Further along the Basque coast, upon a high and secluded 
table-land formed by the rocks, and not far from a certain 
delightful villa, the gay and happy throng called a halt, in 
order to pitch their tents, lunch, and rest. Their provisions 
were substantial, and their appetites excellent, and seated 
upon the ground in groups of ten or twelve, the children 
began that delicious feast, to which the sea-air lent its in- 
vigorating breezes, the sunlight its warmth, and the joy of 
childhood its loquacity. Their inspectors kept an eye on 
them, going about from group to group, taking part in their 
conversations, encouraging their jokes and laughter, and 
preventing by their presence all excesses, without at all 
putting a damper on the effusive joy of the children. On 
one of his rounds Father Bonnat stumbled across Paco 
Lujan, seated Turkish fashion in one of the largest groups. 
The boy was preoccupied and silent, with his napkin folded 
and plate untouched before him ; one of his companions in- 
stantly denounced him. 

“ Father ! Lujan is not eating ! ” 

The latter turned quickly and with forced joviality 
answered : — 

“lam not eating? Just see if I ’m not! Look! ” 

And with a single gulp, scarcely drawing a breath, he 
drained a glass full of wine to the very dregs ; from that 
time on he was gay, talkative, and jocose, and rising sud- 
denly began to look about him as if seeking for something. 
The meal was now over, and joy was at its height; the 
children dispersed in different directions, all taking part in 
various sports. On the top of a rock sitting astride a pro- 
jecting ledge, Tapon, in his shirt-sleeves, armed with an 
abandoned rod with a long line, was laboriously fishing. 
Lujan approached him from behind, and resting a hand on 
his shoulder said to him in a strange voice : — 


CURRITA 


443 


“ Tapon ! come here ! 99 

The latter raised his eyes, and at the sight of that pale 
face and frowning brow, quickly changed color. He im- 
mediately dropped the rod, put his jacket on in silence, and 
arose with docility. 

“ Walk ahead,” said Paco. 

A little path, cut in the rock itself and flanked on both 
sides by jutting peaks and large boulders, led from the summit 
of the rock to the sea-beaten coast beneath. By it both 
boys began to descend, Alfonso surprised and frightened, 
his companion pale and frowning, both unconsciously being 
drawn on by the most pitiful of misfortunes which exists on 
earth, that brought upon the innocent by the faults of the 
guilty. When they reached the wildest part of the coast, 
where the rocks stood out solitary, and the noise of the sea 
was deafening and terrifying, where the joyous shouts of the 
children could no longer be heard, nor was there further 
trace of man, Tapon, full of uneasiness, turned and looked 
timidly at his companion ; but the latter pushing him forward 
said ; — 

“ Go ahead ; are you afraid?” 

The little path terminated in a small table-land surrounded 
on all sides by rocks, which were completely submerged in 
the high tide water, and against which the waves dashed, 
sending up seething masses of white foam, and leaving 
exposed upon receding, on the declivity of the land, a small 
hollow like a well, full of water, which reached to the 
waists of both children. Tapon stood still, leaning against 
the largest rock which impeded all further progress; and 
again becoming very pale and frightened, with the mortal 
anguish of uncertainty and the husky voice of fear he said 
in almost a whisper : — 

u What do you want? ” 

The other, now giving a loose rein to the rage which was 
choking him, and to his hatred for the father of this 
innocent, now beyond his reach, which for so many years he 
had fostered within his breast with the patience of one 


444 


CURRITA 


sharpening the blade of a knife, cried out in a terrible voice, 
shaking him with one hand by the arm, and holding the 
closed fist of his other hand to his very face : — 

“What do I want? I want to kill you! To tear your 
heart out and throw you in the sea. Only one of us must 
return to the college.” 

And drawing out of his pocket the fatal paper, torn from 
the fly the day before, he spread it before Tapon’s eyes, 
dilated with terror, and again cried out, livid with anger : — 
u Do you recognize this? ” 

The boy fixed his eyes for a moment upon this strange 
bit of paper, which shook from the angry trembling of the 
hand that held it, while the modesty of his innocent soul had 
strength to crimson for an instant the blue pallor of fright 
which overspread his cheeks. He shook his head and closed 
his eyes, turning them away. 

“ That is wicked,” he said ; u it is a sin.” 

“ A sin, and you wrote it! ” screamed the other, in the 
paroxysm of his rage. And with a terrible blow he knocked 
him down, his full length upon the ground, immediately 
throwing himself upon him with cries of fury, hurling at the 
father, and mother, and the boy himself, the most horrible 
insults, which seemed to swell in his throat, as if there was 
not room enough to cast them forth, giving him blow after 
blow with his fists, kicking him all over his body, tearing his 
hair and knocking his head against the rocks, until, exhausted 
and panting, he suddenly saw his hands stained with blood. 
He then receded a step, pale and sick, instantly experiencing 
what all generous hearts feel when the horrible vertigo of 
vengeance is spent, and they see their victim, defenceless and 
annihilated, stretched at their feet. A great wave of mercy 
towards this poor boy, upon whom he had tried, without 
altogether succeeding, to concentrate the unbounded hatred 
which he professed for his father, now invaded his heart and 
awakened his reason, and in a hushed, almost tender voice, 
he held out to him his own handkerchief, saying: — 

“ Tapon ! you are bleeding! ” 


CUERITA 


445 


The boy tried to rise, moaning pitifully and repeating with 
an unmistakable accent of truth: u I did not write it! It 
was not I ! ” And with a heartrending expression of pain, as 
if his soul suffered more than his wounded body from the 
insults he had heard against his father and mother, he 
reiterated pitifully : — 

“ My father is dead, — I never knew him ; but my mother 
is a saint. Do you understand ? — a saint ! ” 

Paco Lujan felt his whole heart melt in tears, and he 
hastened to support the boy, who seemed ready to swoon ; 
he had a cut on his forehead from which the blood flowed 
profusely, trickling down his face and staining his shirt. 
He assisted him to rise, supporting him under the arms, and 
dragged him gently away, in order to wash his wound, 
towards the well which the receding waves left exposed at 
the foot of a rock on the very brink of the sea. The boy 
with perfect confidence allowed himself to be led away, his 
livid little head, white as snow, resting on Paco’s shoulder. 
The latter now found he had forgotten the handkerchief, 
which lay higher up, on the scene of the combat, and he 
hastened back to look for it. Tapon meanwhile, sick and 
dizzy after this rude shaking up, and barely conscious, 
leaned too far over the rock and rolled to the brink of the 
sea. An immense wave which broke on the shore at that 
moment seized him with its jaws of foam, swallowing him 
up in its tremendous surf. Lujan gave a most horrible cry, 
incomprehensible in a child, and stood with his hair on end, 
and his arms rigid and extended towards that immense 
wave, which swept from the world an innocent boy, in fulfil- 
ment of a tremendous act of God’s justice. His dreadful 
stupor lasted only a moment. He knew how to swim, and 
w'ould save him, — yes, would save him, even though he 
might have to dive into the depths of the sea, or dash his 
brains out against the rocks of the deep, struggling single- 
handed with terror and death. He tore off his clothes, 
throwing them aside, and giving vent to strange cries from 
his panting and oppressed breast, laden with the frightful 


446 


CURRITA 


burden of horror as he made his way across the rocks, and 
left upon them without feeling it, pieces of skin torn from 
his bare legs. He gained the summit of the highest rock, 
the most projecting and inclined towards the abyss, and 
clinging to the end of it, tearing his flesh against the rough 
edges of the peak, he strained his eyes, seeking in that vast 
expanse of waters for a signal, or black speck, even a slight 
splashing on the surface of the water. Nothing ! Nothing ! 

— nothing more than the waves so blue and beautiful, in 
spite of such a frightful catastrophe, and the sky so pure 
and radiant as if oblivious of the horror beneath it. 

“ Great God ! Blessed Mother of Sorrows ! Let me find 
him ! I 'll give my life in exchange ! I do not hate him ; I 
love him, — I love even his father. My God ! pardon ! I 
am sorry ! He was good ! My mother was the wicked one, 

— she, she ! ” 

He arose rigid and stiff as a corpse, his figure seeming to 
grow to more than half its height. Yonder, afar off, about 
twenty fathoms from the rocks, the water stirred a little, 
forming small eddies, while a black speck appeared. Yes, 
yes, there was no doubt. Blessed Heaven ! It was a little 
clenched hand begging for help. Like a flash, an arc was 
described in the air and another victim was buried in the 
sea, with a cry for mercy which his memory found in the 
earliest recollections of his childhood, and which the Queen 
of Angels placed upon his lips as a pledge of pardon in that 
supreme hour : — 

“ Oh ! Virgin of Sorrowful Remembrance, 

Wilt thou remember me ? ” 

He swam the distance with the energy and desperation of 
agony, dived beneath the water once, and again swam on 
top, dived the second time, and once more there appeared 
on the surface, not one, but two little heads, both together, 
one light, the other dark. They disappeared again, creating 
a small whirpool of white foam, vague and almost imper- 
ceptible in that vast and boundless sea, only broken on the 


CURRITA 


447 


distant horizon by a little white sail which could be distin- 
guished afar off. The following day, some fishermen from 
Guetary found lying on a rock the corpses of the two 
children, tightly embraced even after death. In the rude 
and awful conflict of that fearful agony, the scapular of one 
had also become entwined around the neck of the other, and 
rested like a countersign of Heaven upon the breasts of 
both. Never was it known to which of the two the sacred 
emblem had belonged during life. It was the scapular of 
Our Lady of the Remembrance. 


448 


CURRITA 


EPILOGUE 

The last bell of the sanctuary of Loyola had rung for mass, 
and the sexton, or brother, was struggling single-handed, 
in the very church door, with one of those indefatigable 
devotees, ever overflowing with holy curiosity, tireless prop- 
agators of mystic news, who imagine they insure the 
triumph of the Church and the extirpation of heresies by 
divulging to the faithful and unfaithful that Father A 
sneezed twice in succession, or that Father B has lost the 
tassel off his cap. A lady dressed in mourning now emerged 
from the Monastery Inn, slowly crossed the meadow, and 
ascended the steps that led to the sanctuary. She was 
tall and still young, but was bent by the weight of one of 
those terrible misfortunes which incline the body to the 
earth, as if to seek there for comfort and peace. The 
black crape veil which shaded without altogether conceal- 
ing her face revealed two red eyes, in which tears were no 
longer visible, a faded countenance of a perfect oval, in 
which one could see incrusted, as it were, a heartrending 
expression of perpetual grief. As she passed the brother, 
the latter bowed to her with signs of great respect, and 
the devotee, ever eager for ne\ys, asked her name. 

“ The Marchioness of Sabadell,” answered the brother. 

An exclamation of astonishment escaped the devotee, 
and with a certain compassionate admiration she followed 
the lady with her eyes, until she disappeared from view 
within the gothic door of the ancient House of Loyola. A 
dilapidated cab, drawn by two thin country nags, crossed 
the bridge of Catalangua at the same time, drove rapidly 
over the meadow, and stopped at the foot of the little stair- 
case. Another lady, also dressed in mourning, alighted from 


EPILOGUE 


449 


it. She was very small and thin, her face sunken and full 
of freckles, likewise hidden by a black crape veil, while her 
red hair was sprinkled with white. No one in the country 
knew who she was ; she had established herself that summer 
in a well appointed country-place near the baths of San 
Juan, and was often seen from the road walking in the 
grounds by the side of a very stout and apparently idiotic 
gentleman, who gave vent to strange cries and sad bursts 
of laughter, and who never moved from his invalid’s chair, 
which was sometimes drawn by a little donkey, at other 
times by a man-servant, and very frequently by the lady 
herself. The neighboring villagers called her “ La Gor- 
riya,” or “the Red Lady.” She was not unknown, how- 
ever, to the brother, and as she passed, he bowed to her 
also with much consideration and deference. The devotee, 
with redoubled curiosity, repeated her former question by 
asking the lady’s name. 

“ The Countess of Albornoz,” replied the porter, dryly. 

The latter also made her way into the Holy House, and 
entered the famous sanctuary, filled at that moment by the 
faithful of all classes and degrees, the gentleman and the 
laborer, the lady and the peasant- woman, mixed and con- 
founded together with that feeling of confidence and perfect 
equality which many preach, but which is only understood 
and practised in the Holy House of God. 

The Countess of Albornoz’s dress grazed the dress of her 
happier cousin, and without observing her, she knelt near 
her. The Marchioness of Sabadell was not so fortunate ; 
she saw the other distinctly and instantly recognized her, 
while the trembling of her hands and spontaneous expres- 
sion of horror with which she looked away, the cruel agony 
with which her breast heaved without the relief of a single 
tear, as if their well had long since dried within her heart, 
clearly revealed the horrible impression made upon her by 
the presence of this fatal woman, whom she saw now for the 
first time, after so many terrible catastrophes. 

The mass began before the image of St. Ignatius, on the 

29 


450 


CURRITA 


other side of the grating. The Countess of Albornoz, thin 
and emaciated, presently glanced about in search of some 
spot upon which to seat herself, and not finding one, sank 
humbly into a sitting posture upon the cold stone floor. An 
old man, a poor beggar from Azpeytia, instantly arose from 
the end of a bench, and offered her his place ; but, thanking 
him with an affectionate smile, she refused to accept it. 
The communion hour approached ; the priest opened the 
tabernacle and turned towards the people, blessing rich and 
poor, great and small, innocent and repentant, executioners 
and victims. All heads were bowed and all knees bent in 
the most profound silence. 

“Ecce Agnus Dei, ecce qui tollit peccata mundi! ” 

Men and women approached the communion rail, among 
them the Marchioness of Sabadell and the Countess of 
Albornoz, — the two rivals, the executioner and the victim, 
the innocent woman and the scandalous cynic. A long 
interval ensued ; the first mass was over, and a second had 
also been said ; little by little the people were leaving the 
church, until only the Countess of Albornoz remained kneel- 
ing near the altar, scarcely able to support her weight, her 
head bowed, and hands crossed, the living picture of humil- 
ity annihilated by mercy. Behind her, a long distance away, 
knelt the Marchioness of Sabadell, who for the first time 
since her son’s death felt the ineffable consolation of tears- 
Suddenly Currita made a painful effort to rise, and the 
other also arose promptly and left the chapel, pausing at 
the other side of the door by the holy-water fount. The 
Countess of Albornoz found her there, and, pale as a ghost, 
retreated a step upon seeing her. But the other, advancing 
towards her, made a single movement, a mere trifle, such as 
make men wonder and the angels rejoice. She dipped her 
hand in the holy water, and offered it to Currita on the tips 
of her fingers. 


THE END 




EXCELLENT NEW FICTION 


A DREAM OF A THRONE* The Story of a Mexican 
Revolt. By CHARLES F. EMBREE. 12mo. $1.50. 

A powerful and highly dramatic romance, dealing with a popular 
Mexican uprising half a century ago. It is a novel of adventure 
and of war, and its strongly contrasted characters glow with life and 
realism. The writer’s thorough knowledge of Mexican life gives 
him a wealth of new material ; and the descriptions of scenery at 
Lake Chapala are vivid, full of color, and alive with mountain air. 

INVISIBLE LINKS. By SELMA LAGERLOF, author of 
44 Gosta Berling,” ** The Miracles of Antichrist,” etc. Translated by 
Pauline Bancroft Flach . 12mo. Decorated cloth. $1.50. 

Of such distinguished merit as to demand the greatest admiration from any 
reader of fiction. — Philadelphia Inquirer. 

In this new volume of short stories her genius is at its best, and they present 
the very best work she has yet done. — Los Angeles Times. 

Short stories that are marvellous for their sweetness, beauty, and strength. — 
The Beacon , Boston. 

A collection of short stories calculated to arrest attention. Miss Lagerlof 
writes like nobody else. — Providence Telegram. 

THE PARSONAGE PORCH. Seven Stories from the 
Note Book of a Clergyman. By BRADLEY GILMAN, author of 
44 The Musical Journal of Dorothy and Delia,” 44 The Kingdom of 
Coins,” etc. 16mo. $1.00. 

Contents : A Misunderstood Dog $ Wanted, a Young Minister ; 
A Frankenstein Family ; The Old Silk Hat ; Willis the Dreamer ; 
The Rival Undertakers j Here Endeth the First Lesson. 

IN VAIN. By HENRYK SIENKIEWICZ. Translated from 
the Polish by Jeremiah Curtin* 16mo. Decorated cloth. $1.25. 

Considered as a first book, ... it is one of the wonders of literature. — 
The Dial. 

The book is of absorbing interest. — Chicago Tribune. 

BEHIND THE VEIL. 18mo. Decorated cloth, $0.75. 

A romance of the future life as related to the present. The scenery is material, 
but the thought is thoroughly ethical, scriptural, spiritual, — a tonic for hours 
of moral weakness, and comfort for hours of sorrow. — Outlook. 

The book is a direct incentive to good efforts and unworldly living, and it is very 
interesting. — The Beacon. 


EXCELLENT NEW FICTION 


THE SWORD OF JUSTICE. By SHEPPARD STEVENS, 
author of 44 1 Am the King.” 16mo. Cloth, extra, $1.25. 

A fascinating picture of Indian life. — Literary World. 

A very good forest romance. — New York Times. 

A rattling good fighting story. — Chicago Evening Post. 

It has a certain noble tone that puts it above the rank and file of to-day’s 
romances. . . . Will bear reading more than once. — Boston Home Journal. 

FOR THE QUEEN IN SOUTH AFRICA. By CARYL 
DAVIS HASKINS. J6mo. $1.00. 

Contents : The Full-Back Tells the Story ; The Unrecorded 
Cross j The Winning of the Sword-Knot ; At the Zearieba } Judge 
Not 5 Blood. Will Tell. 

SARAGOSSA* A Story of Spanish Valor. By B. PEREZ 
GALDOS. Translated from the original by Minna Caroline Smith. 
12mo. Decorated cloth, $1.50. 

Stirring in every page. One of the mightiest of the war novels that the cen- 
tury has produced. — Providence News. 

The pictures of warfare have rarely, if ever, been surpassed in the pages of 
fiction. — Chicago Chronicle. 

THE BRONZE BUDDHA. A Mystery. By CORA LINN 
DANIELS, author of “Sardia.” 12mo. Decorated cloth. $1.50. 

The author has caught the art of deepening the interest of readers with every 
page. — Minneapolis Journal. 

Of surpassing interest. — Boston Globe. 

An interesting story. . . . Presents vivid and startling contrasts. — Washington 
Star. 

The reader’s interest is held from the first page to the last in fascinated atten- 
tion. — Lillan Whiting, in Chicago Inter-Ocean. 

TALES FOR CHRISTMAS AND OTHER SEA- 
SONS. By FRANCOIS COPPEE. Translated by Myrta Leonora 
Jones . 16mo. $1.00. 

These stories by Coppee, among the most dainty, exquisite, and 
artistic of their kind, have not before been translated. 

Contents : Introduction ; The Lost Child j The Christmas Lovers ; 
A Forgiveness ; The Louis d’Or ; The Commendable Crime ; The 
Hand Organ ; The Poet and the Courtesan ; The Dressing-Maid } 
The Pillar of the Cafe j The Little Stationer ; Adoption. 


EXCELLENT NEW FICTION 


EMPRESS OCT A VTA* A Romance of the Court of Nero. 
By "WILHELM WALLOTH. Translated by Mary J. Safford. 
12mo. $1.50. 

In this thrilling and dramatic historical romance, the pure, sweet, 
simple nature of a young Greek sculptor and the virtue and dignity 
of Nero’s wife, the Empress Octavia, are contrasted with the vice 
of the age and the artificialities of the courtiers who surrounded 
Nero. 

The portraiture of Nero’s character is a masterpiece. This is the first genuine 
Nero, often as people have attempted to depict this diabolical being. Octavia 
herself is one of the most original female characters in literature. — Carl 
Bleibtreu, Revolution of Literature. 

The KNIGHTS OF THE CROSS. By HENRYK 

SIENKIEWICZ. Author of “Quo Vadis.” Authorized and un- 
abridged translation by Jeremiah Curtin . Two Vols. Crown 8vq. 
Cloth. $2.00. First half now ready t price , $1.00. Second half in 
preparation, price f $1.00. 

A book that holds your almost breathless attention as in a vise from the very 
beginning, for in it love and strife, the most thrilling of all worldly subjects, are 
described masterfully. — Boston Journal. 

Characters such as have not been delineated in English historical romance for 
decades. . . . For those who really care for really great literature, here it stands 
written. — Time and the Hour , Boston. 

None who reads “ The Knights of the Cross ” will for one moment regret the 
time thus spent. — Mail and Express , N. Y. 

PASTOR NAUDIE'S YOUNG WIFE. By EDOUARD 

ROD. Translated from the French by Bradley Gilman. J2mo. 
Decorated cloth. $1.25. 

A story of unusual merit. — Philadelphia Press. 

One of the most promising novelists of the younger generation. The atmos- 
phere of La Rochelle is admirably given, and the volume contains some masterly 
studies in character. — New York Commercial Advertiser. 

BRUNO. By BYRD SPILMAN DEWEY. 16mo. Decorated 
cloth. $0.75. 

Her hero, Bruno, — loyal, affectionate, keen-eyed, and intelligent, — is a real 
dog. — Buffalo Express. 

So delightfully and naturally told that it cannot fail to interest the reader of any 
age. — St. Louis Globe-Democrat. 


EXCELLENT NEW FICTION 


CURRITA, COUNTESS OF ALBORNOZ. A Novel 

of Madrid Society. By LUIS COLOMA. Translated from the 
Spanish by Estelle Huyck Att’welL J2mo. $1.50. 

This remarkable novel, the work of a Jesuit priest, has had a great 
success in Spain, and perhaps deserves an equally great one here. 
It is brilliant and powerful, and treats of the corruption of Madrid 
society and its follies with a sharp and caustic pen directed with 
keen insight into the forces which mould all social life. 

FROM KINGDOM TO COLONY. By MARY 

DEVEREUX. Illustrated by Henry Sa.ndh.ziru !2mo. Decorated 
cloth. $1.50. 

Throughout the story love is dominant, but it is brave, sweet, true love ; we 
are sorry that the book should end so soon. — Boston Journal. 

It gives a truer picture of the country and its people than does the record of 
battles or the struggle for possessions. — The Outlook. 

FILE No. 113. By EMILE GABORLAU. Translated from 
the French by George Burnham hes. J2mo. Decorated cloth. $1.50. 

We rejoice over the publication of a new and very satisfactory translation of 
“File No. 113.” It is a masterpiece of its kind, one of the best detective 
stories ever written. — New York Tribune. 

KING OR KNAVE, WHICH WINS? An Old Tale 

of Huguenot Days. By WILLIAM HENRY JOHNSON, author of 
44 The King's Henchman." With 4 illustrations by Clyde 0 . De 
Land . 12mo. Decorated cloth. $1.50. 

Mr. Johnson has so woven it as to reproduce the political, military, religious, 
and social conditions of the age, and the strangely contradictory character of the 
great Henry himself, with what is, no doubt, substantial fidelity to truth, and 
with much literary skill and power. — Chicago Chronicle. 

PHILIP NOLAN'S FRIENDS. By EDWARD EVERETT 
HALE. New Library Edition. 12mo. $1.50. 

This novel is founded on those passages in the early political history 
of America which resulted from the cruelties of Spain in the treat- 
ment of Americans in the Southwest. 

An historical novel which is interesting in every line. — Washington Times. 


LITTLE, BROWN, AND COMPANY 
'Publishers, 254 Washington St., Boston 












































































Y 















































































' 






. 












































































































































































































































